


Musings on what it would be like to date Doctor James Wilson

by nonameanime



Category: House M.D.
Genre: Dating, F/M, Meet-Cute, S6EP15, Season/Series 06, Self-Indulgent, Self-Insert, Slice of Life, Slow Burn, Speed Dating, epic slow burn this is wilson we are talking about
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-14
Updated: 2021-02-27
Packaged: 2021-03-02 21:21:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 39
Words: 394,572
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24173554
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nonameanime/pseuds/nonameanime
Summary: I've become rather smitten with the boyish and caring oncologist, Doctor James Evan Wilson from House MD.Some musings on what it would be like to date Wilson, set around S6EP15 - Private Lives - where House, Wilson and Chase participate in a speed dating event.  What if you were the one person Wilson met who didn't want to talk about boring cancer and instead, you were his follow up call.Classic new girl in town, meets boy and rather slice of life things happen; with Wilson.
Relationships: James wilson/reader
Comments: 65
Kudos: 52





	1. speed dating in princeton

**Author's Note:**

> As we are currently self-isolating to allow for the control of covid-19, I started watching House MD to fill in the empty hours. I am years late to the show, but I now know why people were all excited by it in the mid-2000s. 
> 
> Upon realization that I'm not getting any younger a recent conversation with my best friend was around how I found the older characters to be more attractive that those spunky young research fellows. My best friend assumed I was talking about House, but I am much more smitten with Wilson. RSL plays him with such a subtlety and charm that I couldn't help but imagine what it would be like to date Wilson, the self declared panty peeler, who has the seduction of women down to a science.
> 
> Since this is about Wilson, it will obviously be slow burn and I'm not sure if I'll get as explicit as I have in other fics, not sure it that is necessary for a Wilson fic.

You can’t believe it. Despite your better judgement, you find yourself at a generic modern bar for speed dating. It has been years since your last unsuccessful attempt at speed dating, but you have just recently moved to Princeton and it is best method to avoid dating people from work. Thankfully, most of the other attendees have that slightly awkward and nervous energy around them as people grab a drink from the bar to settle themselves.

You scan the room to check out the options, so to speak. Most of the men appear to have come alone, as they eye each other with a competitive nature and feign an air of not trying too hard to look at the women, including yourself who are assigned a seat after getting a drink. At the bar you notice something unusual, there is a group of three guys who seem to be having a more involved conversation, so they clearly know each other. In the middle is a guy with short cut dirty blond hair, navy blue v-neck sweater over a light blue dress shirt and a fitted jacket. He’s holding a domestic beer while the other two seem to be trying to explain something that he is skeptical of. On the left is an older man, with greying short cut hair, dark suit jacket and a light blue button down, unbuttoned and a little sloppy looking but he seems quite sure that whatever he’s saying is correct. To the right of him, is a brown haired, clean cut man who looks like he’s trying almost too hard to be casual, jeans, oatmeal colored v-neck sweater with the bold choice of a light pink and cream striped dress shirt underneath with a drink of some sort in a glass. He does seem to agree with the taller, sloppy guy as their friend still seems skeptical but game for something.

The woman in charge of the speed dating event explains the format and she rings a gong at the end of the 5-minute period between each putative date. It quickly becomes clear that this is an event for educated professionals after the chatting with the third lawyer, second engineer and you are sure a doctor or two will swing by you at this rate. You take a larger than necessary swig of your beer as the tall, sloppy but opinionated guy flops down in the chair in front of you as he places a cane hanging over the edge of the table.

As he settles in his seat he immediately starts speaking . . .

 _"That_ bad? Are you that disappointed by the prospective pool only one third into the event?"

Wow, you think to yourself. This guy started speaking to you without introducing himself and his facial expression is one of clear sarcasm as his bright blue eyes dart back and forth glancing at everyone else in the room. You slowly place your beer down before you reply. It is clear that he’s not one for convention or banal pleasantries.

You reply to him that this is simply a means to an end. You explain that you have recently moved to the area and figured it was worth a shot, as awkward as it is. It seems to be a place where there are a lot of professional dudes. You continue that are curious, he’s the first person of the night who hasn’t started the conversation with an introduction of himself with what his job is. You tell him, you guess he’s either a doctor or engineer, since he looks a little too relaxed to be a lawyer.

His eyes narrow for a second before he smirks as he replies.

"Good guess, I’m indeed a doctor, specifically a diagnostician. You seem to have a good read on the crowd here tonight." He fidgets while he seems almost trapped in the room. It is so obvious that he’s the plus one of one of those guys he was with earlier, so you decide to just shoot the shit with him rather than try to chat him up as a prospective match.

You chose your words rather bluntly so that he doesn't confuse your intent or interest in him. "I get it, you are here because one of those guys you were with before the start made you come to this event. So, we can either stare each other down for the remaining 4 minutes and 30 or so odd seconds or make meaningless small talk. What do you prefer?"

He looks at you with a brief look of shock which is quickly replaced by a relaxed grin. He cocks his head as he thinks of a reply for a second before he speaks. "You don’t want to really do this yourself, but this event must be the lesser of two evils for ya? Why speed dating over online dating?"

He’s got this shit eating grin where he looks so clever.

You take another sip of your beer before you reply.

"Wow, despite your introduction there, or lack thereof, you are actually choosing the small talk option? To answer your questions; one - yes, two - online dating allows for people to lie to you much more easily."

As you began to speak, he moved to place his elbow on the table as he leaned in with his chin propped up with his hand and he has these almost pathetic puppy dog eyes as he tried to settle in to “listen” to your answers that were supposed to be much longer.

"That’s it?!?!" He’s popped back with a look of annoyance on his face after almost shouting at you. He continues to explain "I was doing my best to appear like I was listening."

It is a pity that this man clearly lacks tact or cares little for social conventions; he’s a charismatic man and you are certain a lot of women and men would melt just looking at his eyes. You decide to make use of the last two minutes. Taking a scrap piece of paper from your notepad, you had it over to him with a pen and ask him to list his recommendations for food, dry cleaners etc. with the preface that he’s the “local knowledge” and he looks like a man with strong opinions. It takes up the remaining time and he hands it back over as the gong rings. You thank him for his assistance, and he gets up and half smiles at you as he moves onto the next table.

You meet a few more guys before the next of the grumpy doctor’s friends gets to you. It is the brown haired man, wearing the dress shirt and oatmeal colored sweater. He smiles at you as he extends and offers his hand for a handshake. He’s got his shirt sleeves rolled up to below the elbow and his undershirt peaks out underneath the cuff of the sweater.

You accept his hand as he introduces himself, “Hi, nice to meet you. I'm James.” His hand is firm yet a bit sweaty as you introduce yourself in return. For some reason you find his slightly sweaty hand a bit endearing in a cute way. He takes a breath before he continues to the short yet awkward conversation.

"I’m an oncologist at Princeton-Plainsboro Teaching Hospital, what do you do?" He looks weary as soon as he finishes his statement as though whatever you say next is something that he’s dreading. You aren't sure why he looks so, well dreadful, so you opt for a quick reply instead.

“Oh, okay, so another doctor in the mix here tonight. This certainly is an over-educated group for sure. I’m a molecular biologist, I just moved here to work for evil.”

His thick eyebrows furrow in confusion as he takes a sip from his glass. He turns his head to the side ever so slightly before he relaxes a bit. "You aren’t going to tell me about a friend or relative who died of cancer? Since I’m an oncologist, that is. . . . " and he seems a little confused as his voice trails off.

Trying to move the conversation away from the fact that everyone one in this room is a professional, you try to be casual in your reply. "Nah, cancer is boring. Though, you are guaranteed employment for your entire career. Job security is certainly a nice thing to have and I’m sure the pay is way better than what I get!"

He laughs at your reply and his entire face is smiling, including his eyes which are a soft dark brown hue. He’s definitely a few years older than you, in his 40s, but he’s got a boyish air about him. He smiles at you as he plays with the glass between his hands on the table as he continues the conversation. “You said you worked for evil. The last time I checked, there wasn’t a company called evil here. Then again, I don’t get out much.”

He smiles again after asking the question and you notice he’s got dimples when he smiles, you can’t help but grin back at him. Feeling a bit fun and flirty you run with it to keep the conversation going. "You’ve figured me out! Yes, I’m not actually employed by evil, but just one of the major agricultural company’s R&D divisions. I make transgenic plants for a living so not everyone agrees with what I do. Though, the benefits of working for evil are quite nice, hence why I just moved here. You from the area or lived here a long time? I think I got your friend to give me a list, but I’m not sure if he gave me honest answers."

He immediately looks concerned; “My friend?” You nod as you hand him the list that the other doctor had written out. James looks at it with an intensity almost too much for a list of random things as he furrows his brown again in confusion. He turns to look at you as he hands the list back before explaining things further.

"I’m a bit puzzled, House usually loves messing with people, but he gave you what would he his honest opinion on all of these different topics, this list indeed includes the best places for Chinese, Indian, French as well as the most reputable dry cleaners. You must’ve impressed him, or he’s gone soft."

James then shifts slightly in his chair before he leans in a bit closer.

"Yes, I’m from Jersey, I’ve pretty much kept to the mid-Atlantic for most of my career, though I did my undergrad at McGill. Montreal was a great place to be a student, though being there in the late 80s was politically interesting to say the least." He leaned in a little closer over the table after saying this as though mentioning the political situation in Quebec was something to be careful of.

James then pulls back a bit before continuing. "I went to med school at Columbia and then specialized at UPenn. I eventually found my way here to PPTH. That’s pretty much it, overall, Princeton isn’t a bad place to live."

He rubs his left hand through his hair ruffling it a little looking at you through thick lashes and he shrugs a little as you look back at him.

“Um, well” – his little hair ruffle has thrown you off just a bit as you catch a twinkle in his eyes as you then reply “I’ve mainly puttered around the Great Lakes, undergrad at Penn State, grad school at Purdue, a postdoc at U of T – Toronto that is, and then I worked in the desert, both literally and figuratively before arriving here.” You glance away for some reason feeling slightly embarrassed as you take a sip of your beer as you look back towards him.

He looks thoughtful as he smiles again! With such a gentle looking smile too! For someone who started out very nervous and awkward he’s looks like a completely different man, he gestures towards you with his left hand as he explains that he’s the perfect person to help you out. You’ve only just moved here, so he knows how to help you out in your time of need. To emphasize his point, he points back towards himself as he finishes his sentence. Before you can continue on, the gong has been rung and he beams as he thanks you for the enjoyable 5-minute conversation.

You smile back as you are clearly feeling a bit smitten with the boyish oncologist and his preppy outfit. It isn't flattering or sexy, but something about it works with him. . . He turns to walk to the next table and halfway to the next candidate, he glances back over his right shoulder to and smiles at you one last time before he introduces himself to the next woman.

You meet a few more men before the final guy from their group reaches you. He’s got soft blue eyes and a short but clean haircut, it reminds you a little of David Tennant when he was on Doctor Who but less wild. Turning the tables and curious about this likely third doctor from their group, you introduce yourself to him as you extend to shake hands with him. He’s got a firm grip and he softly smiles as he introduces himself as Robert and that he works as a sanitation worker for the city. He immediately follows with the comment that he’s really into Nascar before he winks at you and takes a very large gulp of his beer.

You look at him confused – there’s no way this guy’s a garbage man who likes Nascar, he’s wearing a well fitted suit jacket, light blue dress shirt and a navy sweater with decent dress pants – he’s like the cross between the rude diagnostician and the cute oncologist. This must relate to whatever their intense conversation was about before the start of the event.

“So, Robert, you work for the department of sanitation for the city?” He has placed his chin in his hand as he leans into it looking at you trying to make a cute face as he fiddles with his beer bottle in his other hand. “Yep.” He replies simply before bringing the beer to his lips while keeping eye contact with you the entire time.

You detect that he seems to be pulling your leg so you call him out on his bluff. "Bullshit! You’re another doctor who works with grumpy man and that preppy oncologist, James!" As you speak these words you point your finger at him in an accusatory tone.

He immediately has recoiled back into his chair and his facial expression is completely taken aback as he replies, “Excuse me, what’s with the accusation here?” - in an Australian accent. He then quickly covers his mouth with his free hand as he glances nervously back and forth to see if his friends noticed his outburst. He leans in and speaks to you in a hushed voice using his right hand to gesture as he speaks. “Okay, you caught me, I’m also a doctor at Princeton-Plainsboro and I work with Wilson and for House. House made a bet with me that I would get the most match requests from women here, but I couldn’t say that I was a doctor nor could I speak in my natural accent. He and Wilson both seem to think that I have a major advantage when it comes to looks.”

Robert is a really attractive guy, you can tell that immediately, yet he seems confused, as though he himself, doesn’t seem to think he’s a conventionally hot Aussie.

You lean in closer to him as you reply in a hushed tone. "Oh, don’t worry, I’m not going to blow your cover, I think there are only a few more people before the speed dating ends anyways. It is just that your backstory is too out of character for all of the people attending this event and you were a part of a group that came to this together. Plus, your outfit is a mix of that grumpy guy, House and the preppy looking James. Both mentors to you?"

He makes a small nod in reply before answers your question.

"I’ve worked for House as a diagnostician, then I spent some time in surgery and now I’m back to the diagnostics team. I originally came to PPTH to train as a fellow under House. I got tired of working for him since he’s an acquired taste as a boss, but then I got sucked back into the diagnostics team. It’s like an addiction that I can’t seem to give up. . . I think I have more in common with him than I’d like to admit. And well, Wilson, he’s got the best bedside manner of any physician that I have ever met. If I could have half of his personal skills, I’d be content with that when it comes to my patient interactions."

He looks both a bit guilty and giddy as he wraps up his small explanation as he fiddles with the label on his beer bottle. His two mentors are spot on, he really is a gorgeous guy, and it is clear that he’ll get the attention of a lot of the women here tonight.

Robert then asks you what you thought of the speed dating so far. You shrug and take a sip of your beer before you answer as you also start to pick at the label a little.

"It was alright, it was a means to an end. I just moved here, and this seemed like the most efficient way to meet a lot of professionals and there is something to be said for meeting people in person as opposed to using online dating where people frequently lie. There is nothing as disappointing as thinking someone is nice online and when you finally meet them it is a complete let down. I think I’ve met a few promising candidates."

You feel a bit embarrassed admitting this as you feel a bit of flush over your cheeks as the gong rings again.

You wish Robert luck keeping up the façade for the last few people as the event comes to an end. Flipping through the cards you double check the numbers with anyone you found interesting and you are asked to rank your top five. For the amount of time and money you spent on this event you don’t want to put down the wrong person.

As hot as the Australian doctor was, you are certain a lot of people will likely list him and since you figured out his bet, you think he won’t list you. Out of everyone over the course of the event the only person, who stood out to you was number 38, James the oncologist. He was genuinely cute, has a solid job and he gave off a vibe that he’d be good in bed. You have no evidence for why you'd think he'd be skilled in the bedroom, but it seems like a good bet.

The gong rings to signal for you to return your cards to the staff so that they could give your contact info to anyone you were interested in.

"Fuck it!" You tell yourself as you boldly write down only one number for your top five. Number 38. You turn in your "list" and head to the bathroom before leaving the bar hoping you made the right decision.

Lost in thought, you exit the establishment and begin to walk down the sidewalk to the public parking garage where you thought you parked your car only to not recognize where you are. Ugh, the worst part of living in a new city is getting the layout of the land. You stop and pull out your phone to pull up a map to look at all of the parking lots in a several block radius of the bar.

While you begin to orient yourself, someone yells your name taking your attention away from the map. James has rolled down his car window and is asking if you are okay or if you are lost and need some help. All of a sudden, his friend House leans over him and shouts out the window. “She’s clearly not lost Wilson! She knows exactly where she is. Princeton, New Jersey, USA. She, however, doesn’t know the finer detail of the location. Come on, let’s go home.”

James, who clearly is referred as Wilson by his friends instead argues back at House annoyed. "House! Will you just wait a minute?" he then in a more calm voice addresses you directly. "If you parked in one of the public lots, they are all in that direction as he points back down the way that you came. I can give you a lift the few blocks if you want me to?"

Thank goodness it is dark out, as your face becomes flush and you feel that fluttery feeling in your chest out of sheer embarrassment mixed with a twinge of undivided attention, something you haven’t felt in a long time. He’s a smooth one, this Doctor James Wilson . . . but instead you reply to him.

“Oh, thanks so much, it looks like you are right, my map on my phone shows all the parking garages in that direction. Thanks again! I’ll be good.”

Wilson looks relieved as House appears to begin to prod his right shoulder with his cane in the passenger seat. “Come on Wilson, we need to drown our sorrows together due to our pithy results compared to Chase half-assing the entire evening. Though, I am 100 bucks richer as a result of our little bet!” Wilson smiles one last time as he modestly waves to you with his right hand before he rolls up the window and they pull away.

You safely make it to the garage where you had parked your car and you head home to your small apartment in the historic district. Thankfully, it comes with a single off street parking spot and you enter through the back of the building and make your way up to your second floor apartment. An energetic meow greets you as your black and grey moggie cat, Keith rubs against your legs, welcoming you back. Keith gets his nightly brushing as you give him some kitty treats and his last bit of kibble before bed.

After showering you change into an old band t-shirt, flannel pants and you make a cup of chamomile tea. Relaxed and ready for bed, you head into your bedroom as you call Keith’s name that it is bed time. Keith comes running into the bedroom and as you get under the blankets, Keith makes himself comfortable on top of the blankets. After you lay down and turn off the light he snuggles up to your bum and you drift off to sleep wondering if you’ll get a call back from anyone? Hopefully, the cute doctor calls you back.

A few days have passed, and you still haven’t quite settled into your new routine at work, so you’ve lost track of how much time as passed since the speed dating event. Maybe, you aren’t going to get any calls back – which would be a bummer, but you put all of your eggs in one basket on your side. Dating is such a pain in the ass you think – but, you’ve never been good at it to begin with. It has never been something natural or something that you’ve felt comfortable with. The weekend passes and you still haven’t heard anything, and you write off the speed dating event as a waste and that if you try it again, you really should list five guys.

Early on Tuesday morning, your phone rings a few minutes before 8:00am. No one really calls you and it is _really_ early for it to be an important phone call, e.g. work, doctor, etc. The number is lacks caller identification but has a local area code, 609, so it is either a landline or someone who has lived in the area long enough to never move with a cell phone number. You hesitantly pick up the phone and answer.

"Hello, this is James Wilson, we met at the speed dating event a little over a week ago. I’m so sorry for taking longer to get back to you, things got busy for me."

You reply without trying to sound too excited. “Oh, hello, it is nice to hear back for you.”

Wilson then continues, "Well now I’ve confirmed that this is the correct contact info for you. I was wondering if you’d like to go out this weekend? Saturday? I could show you around and help you get your bearings – including the location of all the public parking garages. If you are interested in that of course. . ."

You reply that it sounds great, and asks what time you should meet?

He confidently replies, "How about 9:30am? I’m a morning person and I like to go to the Farmer’s Market if possible and they’ve got some great baked goods and a local roaster has a small coffee stand. We can go from there? I can pick you up at your place? Where do you live?"

Wow, he’s much more forward that you would have expected; or maybe you aren’t as surprised since he gave you directions after the speed dating event and his friend was clearly annoyed or even jealous perhaps? You give him your address and tell him to pick you up from the main street entrance of your apartment building. He thanks you for the address and wraps up the phone call with more pleasantries and banal information.

"Well, my coffee is ready, and I need to do some paperwork here at work before doing my rounds. I’ll see you on Saturday morning then at 9:30!" He sounds very excited as he finishes speaking.

You reply that you’ll see him then, just as you are about to say “goodbye” he jumps back in - “Oh and this is your cell number correct? This is mine you can add it since I’ve got an unlisted-ish number. Okay, bye!” and you finally are able to say goodbye.

His last-minute attempt to chat you up a little bit longer, makes you smile. You think you can see him on the phone, with that subtle smile as he is speaking into the phone while he fiddles with the pen in his left hand, or at least you think he was left hand when he had his cards from the speed dating event. Friday rolls around and you casually chat with a few of your new coworkers. You don’t know anyone well enough yet but can manage some small talk with them. When the topic of weekend plans come up, everyone mentions what they are up to. One of your office mates asks if you are still unpacking and settling in and instead you mention that you’ve got a date, with a doctor from Princeton-Plainsboro. The office mate seems surprised, before continuing on – their partner works there as a nurse and warns you that some of the doctors from PPTH have some reputations for being a bit wild; there is some genius doctor named House, but he’s a bit on the crazy side and his team is equally interesting. You nod along and assure your colleague that you aren’t going on a date with this infamous House character so you think you will be alright.

Friday night after supper you spend more time than you’d like pondering putative outfits for Saturday. It is early autumn and the forecast is for the high 50s tomorrow, meaning the low will be likely a bit chillier in the morning. Besides the Farmer’s Market, James Wilson wasn’t specific on what else you’d be doing which makes it a bit difficult to plan, but based on his appearance when you met him, you’d figure he’d err on the side of casual professional. You decide on a simple A-line knee length skirt with pockets, with a subtle plaid fabric, black tights, a navy blue long sleeve t-shirt, a lightweight grey hoodie. You’ll wear your light corduroy jacket over the hoodie so you’ll have layers for the morning. To complete the look you wear calf high black boots, with a minimal heel as you are unsure of how much walking you’ll do. With an outfit sorted out, you shower and then do your best to go bed, even though you’ve got those nervous first date jitters, something you haven’t experienced for some time. Keith snuggles up with you in bed and you finally drift off to sleep as you feel his solid cat presence.

Your alarm goes off at 7:30am to weekend edition on the local NPR station. You groan as Keith enthusiastically mews for some breakfast. Slowly you get ready, making a small cup of coffee and have a banana. You assume you’ll have some more baked goods at the market, but you don’t like leaving the house on an empty stomach. Sure, enough, it is the coolest day so far as temperature around 48 and you think your outfit will work well today. You put on a minimal amount of make-up, you aren’t huge on it in the first place and it is still pretty early in the day as the news is a constant sound in the background as you get ready.

At 9:25 you peek out your living room windows that face out over the main street; a silver Volvo pulls up in front of your main entrance and you recognize Wilson at the wheel, he seems to be looking for a legal place to park yet there aren’t any close by. He looks around before he drives down the street and out of sight. You wonder what he’s doing, unless he’s the type of person who can’t park illegally for a few minutes and he’s literally driving around the block to arrive on time.

After putting all of your things in a satchel, and putting on your jacket, your phone rings at exactly 9:30am. It is indeed Dr. James Wilson, you pick up and say hello, as he quickly speaks. “Good morning. I’m right in front of your place and I can’t find a legal place to park. I’ve put the hazards on and I hope I’m not causing too much trouble.” You reply that you are on your way down and you say good bye to Keith as you lock your door and head down the stairs and out the main entrance.

Sure, enough he’s sitting in his car glancing around, hazards blinking, as you walk up to the passenger door. You go to open it, but it is still locked, and he is already apologizing as he unlocks the doors so that you can get in. Both of you say good morning as he turns the hazards off and you buckle in as he pulls back into the street making sure to signal to re-enter traffic and heads towards the Farmer’s Market.

He casually comments that you look nice, and the boots are a nice touch with the cool weather. Smooth talker indeed you think to yourself as you thank him for his compliment, you weren’t sure what he had planned so you went for comfortable and versatile. He chuckles to himself as he briefly glances at you before paying his attention back to the road.

You take the time to see if your prediction of his dress was correct or not. He’s wearing a simple white dress shirt under a dark navy cotton crew neck sweater. His pants are dark grey and surprisingly, he’s wearing a pair of navy blue keds that look gently worn. Still preppy but not a pair of oxfords or loafers as you were expecting. At least he isn’t wearing tennis shoes. All in all, it is a simple but handsome outfit. His hair looks a little bit more styled and he seems to be much more at ease.

As you make your way to the Farmer’s Market he points out clear landmarks, major roads and intersections and places of future interest. He really wasn’t just using showing you around as an excuse, he honestly meant it. He parks in a public lot close to the market and he pulls out a few reusable shopping back from the trunk of his car. One is from Trader Joe’s which he shoves into a burlap bag that says “ I <3 NPR”. You stifle a laugh as he shuts the trunk and locks the car. “What?” he looks at you quizzically.

You apologize, as you explain that he has the most predictable reusable shopping bags, for a responsible, professional who drives a Volvo. His body language shifts from hesitant to confident. Wilson, still holding the bags in his right hand, puts both of his hands on his hips as he tilts his head as his hair slightly sways in the direction of the tilt. With great confidence, he looks you squarely in the eyes. “Yes, I am a yuppie professional stereotype. That you have agreed to go on a date with me implies that either you got me confused with someone else at speed dating or you find is reassuring that I’m a predictable stereotype.” After his declaration his hands are still firmly planted on his hips as he puffs his chest out just a tiny bit and he raises his chin just so subtly.

You just smile in response and nod before you reply. "Yep, I’d have to admit that that I may have found your preppiness endearing during speed dating, so, I think I knew what I was agreeing to. Shall we?" And you motion towards the market.

He steps up to you and gently places his right hand on your back as he gestures with his left towards the market and as soon as you start to move he’s already removed it and he’s slightly swinging his arms with the bags in his right hand. As the two of you walk, he mentions getting the baked goods first, so that you won’t have to carry the coffee that far to a few of the tables. The temperature is still cool, keeping the crowd to a smaller size but the sun is out and the sky is clear with one of those vivid blue skies with only a few wispy white clouds here and there.

You aren’t sure what type of baked good to order, so you tell him to order for you. Instead, of just ordering, he asks you a few quick questions – do you like fruity or nutty? Sweet or more savory? Bagel, scone or something else? After his quick survey, he orders a cranberry walnut scone for himself and a lemon poppyseed one for you, that has a light lemon icing as well. Wilson pays for both of them and also gets 6 bagels which he places in his NPR bag while he hands the small paper bags with the scones to you as you get to the coffee roasters stand.

You order a dark roast of the house blend and he orders the light roast with room for cream. Before you can even pull your wallet out, he’s already paid for both of the coffees and is handing yours over while he goes to the small station with the sugar, creamer, stirrers and napkins. He carefully removes the lid, adds in a splash of cream, stirs it a few times before placing the used stirrer in the biodegradable waste, and grabs a few napkins that he places in his pockets. The two of you reach a small open area with small tables that you can stand at or picnic tables that you can sit down and eat at. Half of the area is shaded and quite chilly so you opt to use one of the standing tables in the sun.

All sorts of people are around you of all ages and family combinations. Older couples, grandparents with grandkids, entire families as well as some single people enjoying a bite to eat before shopping for ingredients for tonight’s supper. The scone is delicious, fresh and warm and the light icing gives is a slight sweetness that balances out the tart lemon and the poppyseed flavor which can only be described as poppyseed in flavor. You remove the lid to the coffee and place it on the top of the table upside down as it cools and you take a sip. It is a good cup of basic black coffee. Wilson seems to be watching you intently with pregnant expectation as he sips his coffee.

"So, what do you think?" He asks as his eyebrows arch upwards and he leans in ever so slightly over the small table towards you curious what you say.

"Its good, both the coffee and the scone. I like a dark roast that has depth but isn’t overly roasted, this one has a nice balance and the scone is great."

Upon hearing your reply, he glances down and looks at you with his soft brown eyes from under his eyelashes. How does he do that? He’s got to have the best eyelashes out of any guy you’ve ever encountered. The two of you quickly finish the scones and you decide to do one walk through of the market before purchasing anything while drinking the second half of your cups of coffee. He nods to a few vendors, who clearly know him and he points out vendors and products of interest. With your coffees finished, he takes your empty cup from your hand gently. Doing so, his fingers brush yours briefly as he disposes of each item from them in the proper waste bin for sorting. He then asks if it is okay that he do some of his shopping, and he works his way through the market in a clearly pattern of habit.

Wilson greets and pleasantly chats with each vendor; this man is clearly an _expert_ of small talk, asking about family or relatives, the options for each item and how to store or prepare things that he’s never bought before. You quickly observe that he has a basic smile, it appears effortless and natural, but based on how frequently he uses it, it is obvious that it is a learned behavior. Slowly but surely, his first shopping bag is full and he’s starting to put items in the second one.

You didn’t bring a bag, so you decide that you’ll just buy some fancy soaps and place them in your satchel, those will definitely fit. As you go to place them into your bag, he profusely offers that you can put them in his second shopping bag. You really don’t need to put them in his bag, but something about the look in his eyes makes you cave and you place them in the bag. By now the temperature has warmed up a bit and more people are at the market and Wilson has two full shopping bags. He puts the one tote bag over his left shoulder and holds the lighter one with his right hand. As you make your way through the crowd, he occasionally places his left hand on your shoulder nudging you away from other people or preventing them from absentmindedly bumping into you. His hand feels warm on your shoulder and you feel a little bit lighter as you try not to think about it too much nor do you try to glance back at him.

You make idle conversation as he explains what he will do with everything he’s bought at the market on the way back to the car. After putting the bags in the trunk, the two of you get back into the car. "Where to next?" you ask.

"The Arboretum, I’m guessing you haven’t made it there yet and it has some nice casual walking paths among the trees." It is around 11am by time you make it to the Arboretum and it is still sunny and clear warming up a bit. You decide to leave your corduroy jacket in his car and just wear the hoodie as the two of you walk the paths. The two of you pleasantly amble along the paths as you enjoy looking at all of the trees, reminding you of how much you missed trees before moving to the east coast. The trees are just starting to turn, and it smells like the season is starting to change, with that crisp scent that can only be described as fall.

"You really missed trees, didn’t you?" Wilson’s voice has interrupted your thoughts. . . . he continues – "You weren’t very specific where you lived before taking this job, but I’m taking if you were truthful in the statement of it being the desert, it was somewhere in the Southwest where they really don’t have a lot of trees."

You are taken a bit aback in surprise at his dead-on accurate statement – "how, how could you tell?" He stops walking alongside you and smiles, not how he did with the market vendors, this is a knowing smile with slight dimples in the corners. His eyes are different, there is an intensity there as though he’s looking at you with a hint of some sort of sadness? Or is it loneliness? His hands are shoved in his pants pockets as he just smiles and looks at you.

"Yeah", you finally reply your mouth dry. "My previous job was near El Paso. I never really fit in there, so I headed back east, looking for something more normal. I ended up here – a place with four real seasons and close to several large cities. Seemed like a good way to start over."

You feel like you’ve just revealed too much, too soon, even though it wasn’t a very coerced sort of confession from you. Maybe you are more shocked at how you were so honest to begin with in your reply? He just made you feel so comfortable to be so forthcoming.

The entire time he’s listening to you, weight leaning a bit more into his left leg and he’s just a touch slouching as he fidgets a little with his hands still in his pockets and it is clear that the sadness or loneliness underneath is still there. Just as the tension starts to build, he takes his left hand out of his pocket and runs his fingers through his hair as he seems to reset himself breaking whatever was building between the two of you. He glances at the ground briefly before meeting your eyes. “I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable. I need to go to the restroom, so let’s head back to the parking lot where they are, and we can grab lunch.”

You relax as the two of you walk back to the main parking lot. Both of you make use of the restrooms. "So, where are we off to for lunch? you inquire. He smiles as he pops open the trunk of his car – he’s got a boyish smile as he pulls out a blanket, which was next to his grocery bags and hands it over to you.

“Here, hold this blanket for me.” You accept it from him as it reveals a picnic basket, the classic wicker type with the flap lid and the single handle across the middle. “I hope I’m not being too bold, but since I really wanted to take you here to the Arboretum, I couldn’t resist the temptation to make it a picnic. I’ve made a few types of sandwiches I’ll eat whatever you don’t like. I made sure to pre-wash the apples, put some cookies in a Tupperware container and I’ve got a wide range of drinks.” He pulls up the one side of the lid to reveal, two cans of seltzer water, a thermos and two small single serving bottles of wine, one red, the other white. He’s beaming gestures to each “I’ve got some seltzer waters, peach, store brand, a thermos with hot cocoa if you are a bit cold or you could warm up with the wine. Just don’t let the park staff notice it.” He says the final statement in a more hushed tone as public consumption of alcohol is definitely against the park rules, so he wants to defy them subtly.

You can’t help but to let out a laugh in response to his willingness to both break the law yet still try to make sure he’s following the rules at the same time.

After a few laughs you reply that you think, you have enough choices to select from and you tell him to come on as you go in search of a nice place to set up. The two of you make it to the more secluded part of the picnic area, but still in the sun since the ground is a little cool and damp. As you open the blanket a plastic tarp falls out. It was clearly folded in with the blanket; not only does he have a picnic blanket but a tarp for underneath as well. Dr. James Wilson is a prepared man and you find yourself melting a little inside with his level of organization.

Wilson then takes charge, “Oh, here we need to put the tarp down first! Grab the other end for me, will you?” You oblige his request as the two of you open the tarp and then lay the woolen blanket down on it. It is a simple blanket of navy blue with red and yellow plaid stripes. Seeing how pristine and clean the blanket is, you sit down at the edge and take your boots off allowing you to sit cross-legged as he watches with a look of awe and then he smiles with those sparkling eyes.

“You get it! This is great, I always have to fight with people over taking their shoes off when sitting on a picnic blanket. Wow.” He says all of this while he also sits down and unties his shoes and places them just off the blanket edge and moves to sit opposite of you on the blanket also with his legs crossed. He opens one half of the picnic basket and pulls out a few napkins and the sandwiches that are all in tupperware containers and diagonally sliced on what appears to be wheat bread.

"So, as I said earlier, I made several types of sandwiches, each one is half of each container." Wilson holds up each container and examines it as he rattles off the descriptions. "Your options are egg salad, tuna salad, cucumber-tomato-cream cheese, smoked salmon-cream cheese, hummus with roasted eggplant and peanut butter and jelly. If you want two that aren’t in the same container, we’ll have to swap them since I didn’t pack plates to cut down on waste."

The level of thought that he put into everything is impressive. Most guys that you’ve gone on dates before didn’t plan a picnic with this level of detail and he made six different types of sandwich fillings and he’s trying to be eco-friendly with his reusable containers as well.

Even though he said he liked all of them and was willing to let you have your preferred one, you suggest that you could just cut each of the sandwiches in half and that way you could eat each one. He seems pleasantly surprised by your suggestion with a bit of a blush as he mutters that he’s sure he packed a knife in the basket if only he could pull it out from under a few other items.

Quickly regaining his composure, he pulls out a container with two Honeycrisp apples, and some baby carrots and puts it directly between the two of you on the blanket. “What would you like to drink Miss?” He has a mischievous grin as his eyebrows arch up in excitement as he asks his eyes darting between the options.

You figure he’s too cute to say no to, so you ask for the white AND a seltzer on the side. As you take the can of seltzer from his left hand, his fingertips fleetingly touch yours, yet his face betrays nothing. You place the seltzer next to your unopened and you look up to him hand you a small plastic cup. “Here, hold this for me while I pour.” He untwists the screw top on the small bottle as he smirks, “A glass of the ‘finest’ white wine Miss.”

You thank him and wait for him to choose his beverage of choice. He untwists the other bottle and pours into another small plastic cup. The two of you then make a toast with a simple “Cheers!” as you gently tap your 'classy' plastic cups together. As you take a drink, you keep eye contact with him the entire time. Neither of you breaks the gaze until you put down the cup to grab a sandwich realizing that you are now pretty hungry.

The two of you eat the various sandwiches with random comments here and there as to how they taste and which ones you liked the best. You make sure to open the can of seltzer as well so that you don’t get too buzzed. It wasn’t like you had a huge breakfast and you weren’t expecting any alcohol with lunch. The picnic gives you time to chat about relatively banal things; do you cook or eat out more frequently? What types of food you like or dislike? You nibble on some of the baby carrots and finally eat one of the apples. When you are done with it you toss the core into some bushes off into the distance, and Wilson looks at you a bit surprised. I’m just adding to the organic fertilizer and you say it with a wink, plant material with more plants.

With all of the sandwiches and fruit and veggies finished, Wilson then pulls out a final container. It has a few chocolate chip cookies and he proudly states, that he made them from scratch earlier in the week and included both chocolate and vanilla chips along with some pecans. He entices you with a wave of the container in front of you can you take a few. With bated breath, he watches with anticipation of your reaction as you take a bite into the first cookie. They are delicious! He can immediately tell that you like the cookie and you finish off the others while he nibbles on one. Not only is this man a trained medical professional but he clearly has a domestic side, you find yourself imagining him wearing a basic apron in well equipped kitchen placing cookie batter out on a sheet and . . . your thoughts are interrupted by him asking if you want any more of the remaining cookies or he’ll finish off the remaining ones.

You decline the offer and finish off the wine as you lay back on the blanket and look up at the white clouds in the sky. They’ve become puffier and look like soft cotton floating slowly from west to east. You turn to your side and you notice he’s now reclining on his left side looking at you as you lay there. He doesn’t say anything, he just looks at you softly, smiling and also lost in his own thoughts, holding his head up with his left hand as his right hand plays idlely with his empty cup and his hair is a little messy.

Unsure what to do you smile at him and return your attention to looking at the sky above you before speaking.

"It really is one of those “perfect” autumn days. It is warm enough that I’m comfortable with what I’m wearing, the shade of blue is my favorite and the clouds are just floating on by. It, it just feels nice and comfortable."

He simply hums in agreement with you as you turn to see he’s also on his back looking up at the sky. The two of you just lie there for minutes – you have lost track of time until you realize that you really need to go to the restroom soon. Since you pop up rather suddenly, he’s also sits up quickly as well with a look of deep concern on your face, his hair a total mess from lying back on the wool blanket. He asks you if everything is okay and you nod. He fusses with his hair as though he knows it is a bit messy before you can reply.

You need to go to the restroom and perhaps you should pack up the picnic putting your shoes and boots back on. And with that you place all of the containers back into the basket and he pulls out a small pack of hand-wipes so that you can wipe your hands down after handling the dirty containers.

While you head to the restroom, he puts the items back in the trunk of the car and he also takes time to use the restroom before the two of you get back into the car. “Where to next?” you ask.

He explains the next stop, "Seeing that we almost fell into an afternoon nap, how about a walk along the canal? We can prevent the post-lunch feeling from capturing us completely."

You agree that it sounds like a nice idea since you haven’t had another cup of coffee. The two of you are able to walk off the lingering effect of lunch along the canal and he manages to maintain what you feel to be a nice distance from you the entire time. He doesn’t get too close to invade your personal space but keeps himself close enough to walk side by side with and keep a natural conversation going. Other people are also enjoying the weather walking along the towpath of the canal converted to a recreational trail. When the trail gets a little crowded he always slips in behind you and occasionally briefly touches your shoulders as you navigate between and around other trail users. He’s gentle and considerate of both you and everyone around.

By time you are done walking the trail, the warmth of the sun is loosing its strength and the sun hangs already lower in the sky, a sign of the transition to true autumn and winter. Realizing your jacket is still in the car, you run your hands along your arms to warm yourself up a little. Wilson immediately notices and asks if you are starting to feel a bit chilly and that he has no problem heading back to his car right then. The two of you then head back to the car and you grab your jacket as soon as he unlocks the car doors.

He’s opened the trunk and pulling something out. It is the thermos he had shown you earlier in the picnic basket with the hot cocoa. He holds the thermos in his right hand and his left towards you and at about waist level, his left hand open to you – almost as though he’s about to demo “jazz hands” as he speaks very clearly. He moves both hands together as he speaks.

"I still have the hot cocoa that I made this morning. I know you may not believe it, but this is a high tech camping thermos that is guaranteed to keep the contents hot for at least 8 hours. I made the cocoa at 8:45 or so, it should still be warm. You should have a little before we head out."

You are shocked at the level of detail and courtesy that this man possesses as well as how excited he was to explain his high tech thermos just to offer come cocoa to you. There has got to be something wrong with him, yet you just haven’t seen any evidence of it yet.

You are left flabbergasted, and it takes you a second to compose your reply. “Um, yeah, um, sure I’ll have some hot cocoa.” No sooner than you have answered his offer, he’s unscrewing the cap and pouring a steaming hot cup of cocoa and he hands it over to you. Sure enough, it is still hot, and it immediately warms you up. You hand him the cap back to him and he pours himself a cup as well.

He looks a little guilty as he asks if you mind him also using the cup, he forgot to pack another extra hot beverage cup. After finishing his cup, he offers it one more time to you with that sheepish grin and he looks a little guilty but not guilty at the same time. You feel that you have no chance to thank him again.

It then pops in your head; his clearly polite nature makes you think of the silly little trope from anime and manga series. Where two characters share a glass, straw, beverage or finish off something like a popsicle, it becomes a chaste “indirect kiss”. Before you know it, you’ve made a quippy remark about how only he would be the sort of man to engaged in an “indirect kiss” in a situation like this.

He looks as you completely confused, what is this you are speaking of . . . you think about explaining it and instead tell him he should just google it later. You need to give him some sort of mystery. Finishing off the cocoa, he places it back into the basket in the trunk and the two of you get back into the car.

Before he’s even able to turn on the engine, his pager beeps, capturing all of his attention. He checks it as his brow becomes furrowed and he looks very concerned. He turns to look back at you with a sense of disappointment but also one of concern and worry. He sighs deeply before explaining.

"That was work, it looks like the oncologist on duty has come down with a bad case of food poisoning and the other one is out of town this weekend. I need to head back into work to cover off the shift. I’m sorry, it looks like this is it for today. I can drop you off at your place on my way into work. I will have to request a rain check from you for dinner."

He looks into you with big dark brown puppy dog eyes and which _almost_ make you feel guilty for being unable to have dinner tonight with him. You explain it is fine, you’ve had a lovely time and you understand, he’s got to go to work.

The car ride is feels unusually silent as he heads back to your apartment. Both of you are now at that critical moment, where whatever you say next will impact the direction of where things could be going between the two of you. You finally fidget in the seat, feeling like the seat beat is putting more pressure on you than normal as you pull it slightly slack as you speak.

"Since you have to go into work, how about dinner next week? Friday perhaps? We can go to one of those places that your friend House gave me from the speed dating?"

He only glances back at you to smile so that he can keep his attention to the road.

"Sure, that sounds good. Just let me know which one you want to go to by Friday morning. I have a late afternoon meeting, so I’ll be coming directly from work. I can pick you up from your place, does 6:30pm work?"

You agree to the plans and he’s safely taken you back to your place. Now you are faced with the awkward way of how to end the date. With the car in park and the hazards on, you unbuckle yourself and turn to him. He’s looking at you, waiting for some sort of sign, almost hesitant to determine how to respond only after he sees where you are going. So, you lean in for a hug as you thank him for a great day. You learned a little bit more about where you live and he gives you a warm hug back. His cotton sweater is soft against the side of your face and it smells faintly of a light floral fabric softener and his musky scent and a very light cologne with a spicy note. Almost barely detectable as it is noticeable this close to him.

The hug is neither too short, nor too long. You get out of the car as you say good bye and that you will be in touch about next Friday. He waves good bye with that mischievous grin and ruffles his hair as he turns off the hazards, turns out his left turn signal and pulls the car back into traffic and heads off to work.

You head up to your apartment where Keith is excited to see you. It is just after 5 and he clearly wants his supper while you start to throw together an easy supper for yourself as well. You smile to yourself as you had a good time with the mild-mannered and boyish Doctor James Wilson but can’t help but think there is another side to him. Well that is something to figure out later and you spend the rest of the evening relaxing watching some random shows before heading to bed with Keith snuggling up with you as you drift off to sleep wondering more about Wilson.

* * *

Wilson sighs as he pulls his car into garage at the Princeton-Plainsboro Teaching Hospital. Another Saturday evening to be spent covering for colleagues, but he just can’t think of leaving the patients without a doctor on staff in case of emergencies. He's a sucker and he knows it.

He pops into his office to put on his white coat over his casual clothing, drop his groceries off from the market in the departmental fridge and make a quick cup of coffee in the office before he heads out to do his rounds.

Walking off to check in with the main desk, he makes sure to walk by the Diagnostics office. Chase and Thirteen are drinking coffee while flipping through medical reference books and a laptop open to the PubMed portal. Foreman and Taub must be either grabbing some dinner or running tests. House's team has a patient and it is clear that the team is following their expected bimodal schedule. His team is either casually keeping up in the literature or preforming their required clinic duties when they don't have a patient, or working at a breakneck pace with little room for anything else when they've got a case. They are clearly working on the latter.

House is bouncing his ball against the wall and glances up to see Wilson walk by. Wilson gives him a quick wave hoping he can escape House’s discerning eye as House is doing his 'I'm bouncing my ball as I both think about everything and nothing' thing.

Right as he thinks he’s in the clear, he hears House yelling his name down the hallway as he leans out of his office door.

Wilson turns and stops briefly as House continues. “What brings you into PPTH on a weekend Wilson? Your personal life is so lame that you think it is more likely to meet someone here at work than anyplace else? Or has Taub taken your monopoly on the single and emotionally vulnerable nurses and you are here to prove to him you are still top dog?”

Wilson grimaces before he ruffles his hair and looks down at his feet.

"No House, as you recall we tried speed dating so we wouldn’t meet any more people at work. I’m actually covering a shift for Smith. Turns out he started projectile vomiting about an hour ago and I’m the only available person on call who could come in this quickly. You know me, I can’t just stop caring for the health and safety of our patients in oncology."

With that he shrugs and turns to head off and do the rounds and keep watch until he can get someone else to cover off the shift or Smith gets better.

House’s eyes narrow as he looks at Wilson outfit and his casual yet so clean cut looking Keds and the sweater. . . .


	2. Dinner date

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After having a casual Saturday date with Wilson, you continue towards an official second date. Of course Wilson uses his skills to break the rules of dating and avoids the antics of House. Not like you will be able to avoid House either.
> 
> More super slow burn with Wilson being adorable.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I set this somewhere in the House time line to correspond with the Speed Dating event. I'm a little off canon as I'm going with House moving back in his place and Wilson is now in the condo alone but it makes for easier dating dynamics.
> 
> I also tried to alternate between the reader's point of view and more background of what Wilson is doing in between interactions with the reader. I want to capture the delicate features of the House-Wilson relationship.

The Sunday morning after your date with Dr. James Wilson is a slow one. After feeding Keith his breakfast of dry kibble, you brew some coffee and eat some cereal lazily. All of a sudden you remember that you put your fancy soaps from the Farmer’s Market in his re-usable grocery bag and they are still in his bag. 

Gah! How annoying – or devious of him. . . you now need to call or text him about the soap. Unsure if he’s still at work covering off the sick doctor’s shift, you decide to send him a text. As you start to type it up – you then agonize over how to write it. You want to look chill but interested, but not too annoying. After about 10 minutes, you finally come up with the following text.

_Hi, I hope things went alright at work. I just realized I left the soaps I bought yesterday in your shopping bag, so I want to not forget them the next time I see you. Thanks!_

* * *

The head of oncology at Princeton-Plainsboro Teaching Hospital, Dr. James Wilson is exhausted as he lays on the couch on his office. He’s got random magazine he grabbed from the waiting room over his face as he is really wondering why he is such a sucker. 

One of the oncology patients took a turn for the worse while covering for Doctor Smith around 2 am. Thankfully, since he was on his rounds, he quickly noticed the issue, got the patient to the ICU and stabilized by about 3:30 am. He really felt like he is getting too old for covering the graveyard shift. He isn’t a Department Head for nothing – though House is a Department Head who is more than willing to spend the night in the office to solve a case. Then again House is equally likely to make his team spend the night and head home while they burn the midnight oil.

It is about 9 am now and he just got a call that Smith would be back into work at noon as it appeared his illness was simple but violent food poisoning. With the emphasis on violent. Smith was apparently on electrolytes and recovering quickly, thank goodness. He’d be free to head home, stay awake just long enough that he could go to bed early and reset himself for the beginning of the work week.

As he drifts off a bit, his phone pings as a someone has sent him a text message. Seeing the sender, he rouses himself a bit and figures it would be faster to just call back, he’s not one for texting, that’s what the young ones do these days he thinks to himself.

* * *

As you are getting dressed after having your coffee and cereal, your phone rings. You glance at the clock it is just past 9. Who on earth would be calling you this early on a Sunday? Worried it might be serious, you pick up the phone to see that the caller is Wilson. Looks like he’s a caller not a texter.

You answer the phone hesitantly, though you aren’t quite sure why you are hesitant and the best you can say is just a hello.

Wilson then speaks “Morning, I just saw your message. Sorry, I accidentally drove off with your soap, I just started thinking about getting to work. My apologies.”

“No problem.” You reply and continue, “I can understand that you needed to go to work to for the safety of your patients which is more important than if I can immediately use some fancy soaps.”

A very loud yawn escapes from Wilson over the phone . . . “Oh excuse me. I’m still at work, I’ll be off shift at noon, sorry I’ll get back to you later.” He sounds super tired and before you can say anything else, you overhear a loud knocking on a door followed by yelling.

You can hear the sound of a man impatiently in the background “Wiiiiilllllllllson! I know you are in there! Wake up! I know you are covering someone’s shift! Since you are here, I need you to confirm a diagnosis!” and there is more banging on the door with additional yelling of “Wiiiiillllsssoooonnnn! You’d better not be doing anything indecent when I come in the balcony door!”

Wilson nervously replies “Sorry, gotta go – duty calls.” And with that he hangs up.

You don’t hear back from him the rest of the day. But really, can you blame him? He went on a date with you and then went into work early Saturday evening and had to work the overnight shift. It makes you tired just thinking about it.

Monday morning while you are checking your email at work, your phone rings. Another early morning phone call – likely Wilson so you pick up. 

“Hello, I hope I’m not calling at a bad time.” Wilson starts off almost sounding apologetic but at the same time you sense, he knows exactly what he’s doing. You simply reply that it is fine, you haven’t gone into the lab yet.

“Oh good. I know you said that you worked for the Agricultural R & D division of “evil”. Does this mean that you work on the research campus that also houses their pharmaceutical research division? The one with the fancy café in the main entrance?” Wilson is asking questions to be polite, but it seems very likely that he already knows the answers before you are about to reply.

“Yep. That’s where I’m at.” You reply. “Why do you ask?”

Wilson clears his throat before he continues, “I’m have a meeting with the pharma division at 10 am about a new chemotherapy agent as a possible independent reviewer. I was wondering if you’d like to grab a bite to eat in the café after the meeting? It should be done by 11:30? I can drop off the soap too.”

You can feel the nervous pause heavy over the phone line from him before you reply. You can almost visualize him fidgeting in place, again playing with a pen almost unconsciously with his left hand.

You take a deep breath before you reply since it seems important. “Sure. I’ve just got to set up a PCR and prep some samples before lunch. I can meet you in the main lobby where the café is. Should I just meet you there at 11:30?”

Wilson eagerly replies, “Yes, that’s great. If I’m running late, I’ll make sure to let you know. See you then – er, soon!”

You smile to yourself as you think about how hard he’s trying to be considerate. It does make you feel special; and it also makes you feel a little bit more smitten with him. It is clear he tries to be as agreeable as possible, yet he’s still got this nervous energy below the surface.

With that you get to work in the lab; prepping some samples, getting a PCR in the thermocycler to run over lunch, making some reagents before doing some extractions in the afternoon etc. At 11:25 you head to your office to grab your wallet and phone as you head down to the main lobby between all the research divisions where the café is located. 

Sure enough, when you get down there, he’s nervously fidgeting outside the café entrance, holding a well-worn yet, clean chocolate brown briefcase in his hand and he’s wearing a beige light trench coat over a full suit and tie. His left hand is shoved in his pants pocket. The suit is medium grey, over a crisp white dress shirt and a green tie with small white polka dots on it. His hair looks impeccably styled.

He suddenly notices you and smiles broadly while pulling out his left hand to wave towards you and now appears relaxed. Both of you say hello and head into the café, grabbing trays and getting into the queue to select what you want for lunch. “Nice shoes.” Wilson compliments your pink and purple oxfords as you are waiting in the queue. You thank him for the compliment, but honestly, you are feeling underdressed compared to him wearing jeans and a basic thin black v-neck sweater. He’s dressed like a “true” professional wearing the full suit and tie.

You decide to ask him if all medical doctors dress like he does, since you really don’t know any practicing medical doctors. He nods before speaking. “Yeah, I’d say most doctors, well most male doctors make sure to wear a tie and dress shirt. The full suit is not required, but there aren’t many exceptions to the rules at PPTH . . . .” his voice trails off indicating he’s thinking about an exception but he doesn’t feel like elaborating.

Being a gentleman, he lets you go first in line and you get a salad and a quiche, while he grabs a salad and a sandwich. When you reach the cashier, you go to pull out your wallet and Wilson gently places his right hand on it and tells the cashier that you are together, and he pays requesting that two cups of coffee be added on as well.

You blush a little as you thank him, and you go in search of a table for two. Since you are a bit early for lunch the café isn’t too crowded, and you find a table in the corner. The two of you place the trays on the table before going to the beverage station to fill your coffee cup. Again, Wilson adds just a splash of cream to his coffee. 

As you settle down to eat, Wilson opens his briefcase, rooting around for a few seconds before he pulls out the soaps. “Here you go, again, I’m sorry I drove off with them.” He has this soft look on his face as he smiles sweetly. He then gets a mischievous look in his dark brown eyes as he glances back and forth quickly before continuing “It is a bit serendipitous that I had a meeting here today. Worked out perfectly to return the soaps to you.” As Wilson finishes his statement, he’s looking at his salad and as he takes a bite out of it before his eyes quickly look at you under his heavy lashes before he turns his focus back to the salad. That brief glance makes you more aware of him, it is as though he is the master of subtle movements that hold your attention. 

You nod as you make sure to finishing chewing before replying to him. “Yes, this is quite serendipitous. I never gave much thought that you would be a possible independent reviewer for the pharmaceutical division, but it makes sense. Have you already decided to review or are you thinking it over?” 

Wilson now is caught taking a bite out of his sandwich when you ask the question. He blushes a little and makes sure to take a sip of coffee before he replies to wash down any residual sandwich. “I haven’t decided yet, I need to look over the legal documents and basic information they provided us. It depends how time intensive the consulting may be, and I have to clear it with the Dean of Medicine at Princeton-Plainsboro to make sure I don’t have any conflicts with my current job and commitments.” 

You reply that it makes sense. Wilson then looks at you a bit sheepishly and he does add in a follow up statement, “Well, if I did take the consulting, it would have an additional benefit.” 

You look at him with curiosity as you can feel your eyebrows arching in interest. “And what would that benefit be?” as the words leave your mouth you have a good idea where he’s going with this.

“Well, I’d be able to meet you for lunch or maybe for dinner after coming here.” Wilson says this with so much sincerity and a completely straight face. Unfortunately, he said as you were taking a sip of your coffee and you are so surprised that you almost cough up the coffee. He said that with a 100% straight and honest face and zero embarrassment.

You on the other hand are in shock at his bold statement; he’s already fussing over if you are okay as you cough a few times before you can look back at him. Finally, able to breathe not chocking on coffee and able make eye contact, you glance up to him already offering a napkin or two for you. He manages to also appear awkward, that it was all of his fault. He looks both deeply concerned, guilty and something else you can’t quite identify. It isn’t smugness, more like he just confirmed something to himself, a knowing look under everything else. He’s _pleased_ that he got that reaction out of you.

The final look is fleeting as you thank him for his concern. Finally, able to find your voice you are able to respond to his statement. “I have to admit I’m a bit surprised.” You pause as he runs his hand through his hair looking down at his empty plates before continuing on. “And I’m also a bit flattered.” You try to smile reassuringly at him as only his eyes move to meet your gaze while the rest of his face is still looking towards his tray. Yep. That look from Wilson is confirmation that he’s pleased with himself.

His eyes seem to have a spirit of their own and he then ruffles his hair once last time as he lifts his entire face to meet your gaze and smile meekly. “That may have been a bit bold, seeing that we already agreed to dinner on Friday.” He then pulls his sleeves back to look at his watch. 

“Oh, goodness, 12:30. I need to be back at PPTH by 1:30 to report for clinic duty. You don’t mind if I go?” 

“No problem. Both of us are done, let’s drop off the trays and we can grab some travel lids for the coffee. I’m going to top up my cup anyways.” With that you, place his plates on yours so that you can double up the trays while he juggles the coffees with his briefcase. 

“Don’t forget the soap!” Wilson chimes in as you make sure to remove them from the tray before you walk away from the tray return.

The two of you then exit the café with your coffees. You thank him for buying lunch one more time and he smiles before he moves in for a chaste hug. You are at work and he’s there on business. It is one of those half hugs since he’s got his briefcase in his right hand and the coffee in his left that is full. Again, you get that very light scent of his cologne; his soft hair brushes lightly against your cheek while he tells you he’ll touch base with you on Thursday about Friday night. 

With that he turns to exit, while you head back to the research wing where the lab and your office are. Just before he is out the main doors, he turns back and looks over his shoulder for a brief flirty glance before he turns back to open the door and head to the visitor’s parking lot. His hair blows around as a blast of air hits him upon exiting.

You feel a bit floaty, most of the time when you’ve met guys it has taken you time to warm up to them. This man is different, he plays a completely different game, appearing to be naturally comfortable yet there is a hint that he knows exactly what he is doing, down to the tiniest of movements. He seems to present the ability to seem spontaneous, but with how well prepared he was for the picnic on Saturday, he really gives off the vibe of someone who thinks through his actions and words deeply before acting. Or he has the actions of seduction down to an art.

* * *

Wilson thanks the traffic gods that he arrives back to PPTH with more than enough time to spare. He can check his messages and some emails before having to do clinic duty. It is shaping up to be a decent Monday.

His door then swings open as House saunters in. “Wilson! It is 1! I’m hungry for some lunch and was waiting for you to go to the café.” Wilson rolls his eyes and sighs deeply before he takes a sip of his coffee from lunch in the to go cup.

“I have clinic duty in 30 minutes. Even though you are my best friend, it isn’t my job to guarantee that you have lunch everyday just so you don’t get pissy. You are more senior than I am here, you can afford to pay for your own lunch like a grown-up.”

House tilts his head as he examines Wilson face after replying. His eyes narrow before he speaks, “You have coffee.”

Wilson sighs again before replying, “Yes, I have a coffee. It is a beverage that is commonly consumed to enhance alertness. A very helpful, legal drug to consume before going down to perform my clinic duty.” He takes his final sip finishing off the cup and places it back down on his desk.

“That coffee isn’t from here.” House stares intently at the cup. “The hospital doesn’t sell coffee in cups like that and it isn’t from a major chain coffee shop nor is it from any of the local coffee shops in the area.” He picks up the cup in his hand and examines it more closely as if it would give him more details that Wilson wasn’t saying. 

While House stares at the coffee cup, Wilson readies himself for clinic duty, removing his suit jacket, and putting on his white coat and adjusting his pens in the pocket protector with his radiation monitoring badge. 

House’s eyes then dart to Wilson’s neck and chest as he gets ready to exit his office. 

“You are wearing it.” House says this with flourish of his eyebrows. 

“Wearing what?” Wilson innocently replies. House points to his tie with his cane. 

“The green tie. You only wear the green tie when you are interested in someone.” Wilson rolls his eyes as he begins to open his door and holds the door open with his hand on the handle as he stops to turn to House.

“Oh yes, the “infamous” green tie which I only display when I’m on the prowl for a mate. It makes a clear signal to the surrounding males to back off and to females that I’m available.” Wilson gestures to House to get out of his office so he can shut the door and head down to the clinic.

House makes a grimacing face as he walks through the door that Wilson is holding open before he follows behind him. The two of them walk towards the elevator as House continues to press Wilson for any more information. 

“Who is she? One of the new nurses in the ICU? It would explain a shift change around lunchtime to grab coffee. I should check with Chase, he’s the one with the most experience; or maybe Taub would be better?”

House has stopped to pause for a second outside of the Diagnostics office as he glances in at the team, relaxing after the case they solved yesterday. Both Chase and Taub are having lunch, while Thirteen and Foreman are discussing some patient files for insurance billing. His pause has given Wilson the time he needs to get a head of House and instead of going for the elevator, he turns to the stairs. 

“Wilson! Your mystery won’t remain one forever!” His shout down the hall catches the entire team’s attention as they only see the tail of Wilson’s coat flutter by the edge of the office windows. “Fine! Use the stairs to distance yourself from me! I’m going to talk to Chase and Taub right now!”

Wilson’s voice then echoes back down the hallway to House and loud enough that the team can hear his snippy reply through the glass. “Talk to Chase and Taub all you want! Sometimes a tie is just a tie! I’ll be down at the clinic if you need me. I’m sure Cuddy would appreciate you serving your clinic hours now that you don’t have a case!”

The sheer threat of being roped into performing clinic hours to interrogate Wilson stops House dead in his tracks. He thumps his cane down into the floor a few times in annoyance before he looks at his team all staring at him. He sticks his tongue out at them before entering his external office door pouting a little. 

Only then does House realize he’s still holding Wilson’s empty coffee cup. He examines it one more time in his hand before he chucks it into his trash can. Realizing that he’s hungry and Wilson has gone down to the clinic he sighs. He’ll have to go to the café by himself AND he’ll have to pay for his lunch. A small price to pay for the next Wilson relationship mystery. . .

House hoped to catch Wilson in his office after he finished his clinic duty for the day, but Foreman found him having his late lunch alone with a new case already. As he flipped through the file, the puzzle was too enticing and before he knew it, it was 8pm. The patient was stable, but he expected her to make a turn for the worse. Stumped on her current condition, House decided to head home and have the team call him if a new symptom occurred.

* * *

The rest of Monday was uneventful at work for you. You tried not to think about Wilson’s words at lunch too much. Something about him both drew you into him but also kept you cautious since he seemed so forward. Again, you can’t shake the feeling that he’s got a formula or game plan for dating and seduction.

Keith was happy to see you when you entered your apartment as you fed him his supper and ate some leftovers you made on the weekend. You briefly thought about calling your best friend but decided to wait until after Friday night. It would give you a better idea of what type of game Wilson was playing with you. At least you had your fancy soaps now, so you could test one of them out in the shower tonight.

Trying to be patient, you resolved to focus on work for the next few days and wait until Thursday to contact him.

* * *

Wednesday morning, Wilson popped his head into check on House. He quickly noticed that he had a case and had been busy trying to diagnose what was exactly wrong with his patient. House pulled him into his office for a 5th opinion on a scan and also wanted to see if Wilson could throw out any more ideas, unusual and improbable. After insulting his suggestions, he figured that House would likely start bouncing his ball off the wall or roaming the halls being a minor nuisance to the rest of the staff of PPTH while the thought about the current case.

Feeling the need for another cup of coffee, Wilson went into the main part of the Diagnostics office to pour himself a cup of coffee. Thirteen and Chase were eating some bagels and drinking coffee as they discussed their current patient’s charts while waiting for lab results to come back. Thirteen and Chase were the more social members of House’s current team, so he decided to ask them about both of the possible restaurants for Friday evening for his date.

Wilson knew from the years of take out that he and House had ordered from both places, that they were hands down the best Indian and Chinese places in Princeton. What he did not know was which was a more date friendly establishment anymore seeing that it had been years since he had gone for a sit-down meal at either place. He knew his finer dining establishments as well as more dive-y locations, but he’d lost touch with middle of the range places. 

So, he just asked their opinion of which place was less busy or crowded on the weekend – he only got take-out from them. Chase and Thirteen both looked at each other before answering, they most agreed that the Chinese place was less busy. He thanked them and then wandered back to his office to do his paperwork before meeting with patients and doing rounds in after lunch.

Once he left, House walked in to also get a cup of coffee. “What did Wilson want besides stealing some coffee?” House asked it as casually as House could ask any question that was about Wilson. Thirteen shrugged and replied, “Something about which place was less busy on the weekend.” And she went back to eating her bagel nonchalantly pretty much ignoring House’s question. 

House then turned to Chase who leaned back in his chair as House turned up the intensity of his stare on Chase. As anticipated, Chase relented, giving the name of the place as well as the fact that Wilson was looking for it to be not too busy so that he could dine in instead of getting take-out. 

“A tie is never just a tie!” House declared this out of context as he walked back to his office with a full coffee mug. Chase and Thirteen both looked at each other quizzically before trying their best to ignore House’s apparent non sequitur statement.

* * *

Thursday morning, your phone rings early in the morning right before 8. You know by now that it has to be a call from Wilson since he clearly likes calling people and he has no problem calling early in the morning.

“Morning. Just calling to arrange plans for tomorrow evening.” Wilson seems calm and cheerful over the phone, the nervousness of earlier in the week is gone and he simply seems natural talking to you on the phone.

You reply, “Morning. So, what is your idea for dinner?”

“After talking with some other people here at PPTH who are “in” the know more than I am, I would like to suggest the local Chinese place, Bamboo Garden. They have both a regular and a “Chinese” menu, so the options are wide.”

Not having been there, you reply it sounds good. You can start to work your way through the various establishments. You then mention that he said something about coming from work.

Wilson then makes a quick “Ah!” before continuing. “Oh yes, I have a late board meeting. It should be done by 6 or so. You live a few blocks from Bamboo Garden. Do you mind if I just park in your neighborhood and meet you there? Don’t worry about dress, it is a casual place.”

With that, the two of you confirm meeting at 6:30 at the restaurant and say good-bye before hanging up.

That is a pretty short time for yourself as well between work and meeting for dinner. You spend your down time between experiments at work thinking of the best option for clothing for tomorrow. You won’t have enough time to change, at most you could pop back into your apartment, feed Keith his supper, freshen up and perhaps change a shirt. You are annoyed at how much effort you are putting into this. Wilson is literally coming straight from work, so you know he isn’t putting any extra effort into his appearance than he already does in the morning.  
  
You casually try to discuss things with coworkers, about what they think a post-work dinner date dress code would be. Most of them seem to think that just wearing what you were wearing all day would work, but then again you realize you are asking your fellow research scientists for fashion advice. You try not to be too obvious about things, you don’t want anyone getting too nosy, but at the same time, you aren’t been on a date for a few years.

Overall, you got the idea that as long as you looked clean and put on some fresh deodorant you think you’ll be okay.

* * *

It is Thursday evening and Doctor James Wilson, is getting his clothing ready for tomorrow morning. It will be a long day of tomorrow; he’s going over the clinical trial paperwork with Cuddy, he’s got his rounds before the weekend, clinic duty for 2 hours and then the board meeting starting at 4 and hopefully ending by 6. Plus, he’s got those second date jitters. He oddly welcomes the feeling, it keeps things interesting. Life seems a little more exciting, colors seem a touch brighter, his coffee tastes better. As he rustles through his closet, he smiles to himself, he loves the art of seducing someone who needs his help. It always gives him that rush of endorphins; he knows how right House is when he calls him out on his addiction of “needing to be needed” but it just feels so damn good.

A Chinese place isn’t the fanciest place to go, so he thinks a clean but professional look will serve him well on Friday but he wants something a little more fun and flirty. He settles on a blue and white gingham print shirt, dark grey almost black pants, and solid blue socks. To determine if he can wear a sweater or not, he checks the forecast on his phone; a high of 48, low of 40, a light sweater will work for sure! He really loves sweaters and he peruses his assortment. He opts for a grey v-neck sweater. The last thing to do is to select a “fun” yet fashionable tie that brings it all together. 

With a furrowed brown and a deeply serious expression he holds two ties next to his gingham print shirt . . . he finally settles on a diagonal striped tie with dark grey, white, blue and lavender stripes. 

He then readies for bed and sets his alarm for 20 minutes earlier than normal so he can make sure he styles his hair to last the entire day.

* * *

Friday, you decide to dress a little bit nicer than normal. Instead of jeans, you decide on dress pants, but make sure they have fully functional pockets. You have a black pair with light pink pinstripes and opt to wear basic oxfords with them for work. Unsure of a proper top, you decide to wear a fitted black t-shirt with a cardigan to work. No one really comments on your outfit that day so you think it must be casual enough but not overly casual. 

Thankfully, traffic on the way home is decent and you get back to your place by 5:45. You have just enough time to feed Keith, acting as though he hasn’t eating anything in days and freshen up.

You wash your face, put on some fresh deodorant, minimal make-up and a quick spritz of perfume. You change out your black t-shirt for a fancy print t-shirt that has an abstract black and pink Marimekko pattern. Since the pattern is so bold you put the black cardigan on over it, grab your basic satchel and you are good to go. You decide to stick with your basic black oxfords thinking heels might be a bit too much for a casual dinner date.

After checking the walking time on Google maps, you determine it will take 10 minutes to get there and you head out of your apartment at 6:20 wearing a mid-weight jacket as the sun is down and there is a chill in the air.

* * *

Wilson is feeling a little stressed – actually he’s feeling quite stressed with everything today. The paperwork for being a potential clinical trial reviewer took longer than expected and Cuddy requested thinking things over before committing to supporting him due to a fellow member of the Oncology staff getting ready for mat-leave. 

House was in one of his bonkers, sleep deprived, I need to solve my case, but I can’t mood. So, of course he pestered Wilson right after his meeting with Cuddy, and before his rounds. He then followed him to lunch to steal half of his fries and Ruben. House retreated during his clinic duty only to return like a terrible rash while he was in his office going over the last board meeting’s minutes. House berated him as being the only person who took Robert’s rules of order so seriously. He also made it clear that he was the only person who bothered to review the previous meetings minutes, so that when the board convened shortly, Wilson could approve the meeting minutes feeling confident and secure in them.

The board meeting was a reprise from House’s harassment and thankfully, it was a rather uneventful meeting and he could even let his mind wonder when Cuddy was talking about a fundraising effort to hire more nurses and improve their resources. Wilson let out a sigh of relief as they ended the meeting at 5:50. He had enough time to swing by his office and head to the garage. . .

Avoiding any further detection by House, he made sure to use the stairs to go to his office making sure to stay out of visual range of the Diagnostics office. He relaxed even more when he saw the lights were off down the hallway as he put his key in his office door. They must have solved the case as the team always quickly disbanded upon resolution of things.

Unfortunately for him, as he opened the door, House groaned from his office couch, he had clearly entered through the balcony door – again. “Yo! Wilson! I figured out the case, it turns out the – “ and at this point Wilson decided to ignore whatever House was saying until he reached the punchline of “and then I got her on simple IV fluids and some B12. She’ll be outta here in no time!”

Wilson rolled his eyes as he collected his things, packing a few items in his briefcase and putting on his coat with a light scarf, and shutting down his computer.

“Well that’s great to hear House. Another puzzle solved and a pesky patient gets the extra benefit of living!”

House has now sat up and his eyes dart back and forth, and it is clear from Wilson’s body language he isn’t sticking around to shoot the shit. “Whatta ya want for dinner tonight? I was thinking of beer, take out from Bombay and tv. There is an Alien movie marathon that starts tonight on syfy. Swing by my place by 7:30? I can call in the order and you can pick it up on your way over to my place. I’ll even give them your credit card number in advance.”

Wilson sighs as he waves his free hand gesturing towards House. “I can’t come over for dinner tonight. It has been a long day and I just want to go home and chill. Good night House. And get out of my office.” Wilson has already turned off the light and he’s shutting the door on him as he makes a “run” for the stairs before House can catch up with him.

House is a bit surprised by Wilson’s reluctance to laze about on his couch eating curry and knocking back a few beers. As he finds himself alone in Wilson’s dark office. Wilson left so quickly that he couldn’t even get in a snarky remark. The wheels in House’s mind quickly began to turn. 

Wilson could just be in a bad mood – he does have them on occasion and sometimes it is best to let him sulk through it. Pissy Wilson is no good for Friday night post-case relaxation and brain rot with a side of tacky tv. He’d also been looking a bit run down with a lot of work, plus he did pull that extra shift last weekend making him more tired. Neither of them are as young as they once were; being tired is a reality. He also considered that Wilson had a long meeting with Cuddy, something about being an independent reviewer for a clinical trial and he could tell that Wilson was really interested in participating, but he also knew that Oncology was facing some staffing issues. 

As he got up from the couch, he exited through the balcony door and actually bothered to lock it behind him. . . as the latch clicked, he suddenly remembered how Wilson had asked Chase and Thirteen about Bamboo Garden Wednesday morning when he came for some coffee. 

His eyes then lit up as he began to grin to himself with devilish glee . . . “Oh Wilson.” He muttered to himself, “You’ve still got in in you, you player; you’ve got a date and you are going out to Bamboo Garden.” Feeling renewed by his next piece of evidence besides the green tie with the foreign coffee cup, he perked up as he made his way to his bike to leave PPTH.

* * *

You arrive at Bamboo Garden at exactly 6:30pm, hoping you timed things right. You hate having to get someplace too early to have to awkwardly wait, but at the same time you don’t like making other people wait. As you open the doors to the small foyer, you see Wilson talking to the waitstaff at the podium, his back to you. 

After he finished talking to the woman he turns around and you wave a little nervously at him. 

“Hi, sorry for making you wait.” You find yourself apologizing even though you are on time. Wilson smiles as he walks up to you, he’s got his briefcase in his right hand as he begins to open his arms. He gives you a friendly hug with his left arm while keeping his briefcase in his right.

He then replies to your sort of apology, “Oh, no worries. I got here a few minutes ago because I absolutely hate being late. I already requested our table and the young woman here said it will be only a few minutes.”

Sure enough, as soon as the two of you are done speaking, the hostess speaks, “Sir, your table is ready, please come with me.”

Wilson gestures for you to go first and you are seated at a small table in the corner out of the way. The place is half empty and soft instrumental music plays in the background. It is your standard Chinese place, neither a dive nor a hipster nor elite place, just basic with a lot of red, yellow and green décor. 

Wilson stows his briefcase between the wall and his chair and the removes his tan coat and a light scarf to reveal a grey v-neck sweater over a blue and white gingham print shirt. He has a very energetic tie, striped but with a lavender highlight. It looks cute on him as you smile a little. As he sits down he’s watching you as you watch him and a little smirk forms on his lips as his eyes dip down and back up to your face. 

“I really like that shirt, that is a very fashionable print. Looks nice with the cardigan.” Wilson says this to you with such a sincerity and you notice how his left eyebrow arches up just a little as he smiles after complimenting you. 

You feel flattered by his compliment, you aren’t wearing anything fancy, but he seems hardwired to want to make someone feel special. You can’t just keep accepting his compliments carte blanche so you decide you need to say something in reply.

“Thank you. I wanted to wear something a little fancier that normal but not to dressy. It looks like you went for something similar. I really like how you went for a more adventurous look of that tie with your dress shirt. The lavender makes it pop a bit more.” 

Wilson hangs his head a bit as he goes to ruffle the hair just at his neckline before he returns a slightly guilty looking gaze towards you. His smirk is back, and his eyes have a bit of a spark in them as he sheepishly replies. “You really think it is adventurous? I was hoping for something that didn’t look 100% like I didn’t have time to change between work and dinner.” He then fidgets a little before speaking again. “Thanks, I usually don’t get compliments from anyone on my appearance.”

The two of you are now both smiling as your waiter arrives. Of course, neither of you have even looked at the menus and you are unprepared. You look up at the waiter a bit guilty and look to Wilson and wave your hand for him to say something. He nods in reply.

“Good evening. We haven’t had time to look over the full menu. Can we get some water, and two glasses of white wine, whatever your driest house white is. Thanks.” Wilson uses his basic small talk smile as he makes the drink request.

With that the waiter is off.

“I don’t know about you, but this has been a long and stressful week. I noticed that you drink your coffee black, so I figured you’d be okay with a dry white. I didn’t overstep my bounds?” Wilson looks a little hesitant as he finishes speaking, as though if he gets anything wrong, like your beverage preference he’s made a grave error.

You try your best to give him a reassuring smile, “Thanks. Good eye about noticing my love of black coffee. I don’t like sweet wines so this will work well. Or as well as possible for a house wine.”

His face relaxes and he’s smiling. “Oh good. I’ve ordered a lot of things from here over the years. Overall, I’m fine with eating anything from here, but since you just moved here, is there anything that you absolutely have to get? I’m willing to order multiple dishes and share them.”

You nod along and think about a dish that you just couldn’t get; the only thing which you are really missing is mabo tofu, so you just request it as well as a veggie stir fry, but he can pick whatever else he wants. You explain that you just want to make sure you get enough veggies and not binge out on meat.

“As you request Miss.” He makes an exaggerated flourish with his hand towards you and then winks.

The waiter returns with two tumblers of water and two very full glasses of white wine. Wilson then takes the lead placing your order of; mabo tofu, the broccoli stir fry, beef and spicy black beans, pork and snow peas with two orders of white rice. 

“Shall we make a toast?” you ask as you hold up your wine glass and look intently at Wilson.

“Yes! Let’s do that. To Friday and two days of “freedom”.” Wilson picks up his wine glass as he makes his suggestion smiling.

“I’ll toast to that. Friday!” The two of you then gently knock the two very full wine glasses together as you stare directly into each other’s eyes.

You take a sip of the house white. It isn’t too bad, dry, but still a little on the sweet side but not bad. Wilson seems to be a little less impressed as he makes a confused face but continues sipping on his glass.

“I don’t normally have the wine here since I usually have take-out, but it is pleasantly drinkable.” Wilson looks like he’s almost ready to apologize, so you cut him off.

“It’s fine, we didn’t choose this place for its fine wines. But it doesn’t change one fact – we can get drunk on it if we want to! Though I’m guessing you have a higher tolerance than I do.”

Wilson is beaming as he looks softly back at you. “You have a good point. Today was a long day for me, so I think I might let loose just a bit. Don’t worry, I figure after dinner we can swing by a café nearby to sober up if need be.” 

Always the responsible one you think to yourself. He’s already figuring out his game plan to be a responsible adult.

While waiting for your food, you start off with small talk, how was the rest of the week, why was his day long, all that sort of stuff. You never gain very much from these types of conversations from the content you think to yourself; you and Wilson are just playing conversational ping-pong. What you do gain is how the other person interacts with you. And from what you can tell with his body language is he’s feeling a bit flirty, ruffling his hair, maintaining long eye contact and just well, smiling a lot, but softly.   
  
As the food arrives, both of you have already finished both of your glasses of wine and Wilson is requesting refills. You are already feeling a bit warm and floaty from the wine, but you can’t help but think a little more wine would help. As you begin to eat you notice that he’s using the chopsticks with his left hand. Ah, your gut feeling was correct, and you get a little excited, likely due to the wine on an empty stomach. 

“Yeah, I was right! You're also left-handed. Yay!” Wilson looks quizzically at his chopsticks in his left hand.

“Ah yes, I’m left-handed.” He says this a bit hesitantly as he then looks up to see you are also left-handed. “Oh, wow you are too. Left-handed people unite. Forever cursing smudgy pens, scissors and manual can openers among many other items.” He says all of this in a rather deadpan fashion as he leans in over the table closer to you. He glances to the left and right and leans in even closer to speaking in almost a whisper. “You know what they say, only left-handed people are in their right mind. The revolution will start with the rallying call of utensils for all!” He then pulls back as he tries to keep his composure and you start to giggle at his terrible jokes. Your laughter becomes contagious, as he fails to keep a straight face and also beings to laugh with a deep full belly laugh. 

Both of you then continue to drink during dinner. Wilson is now relaxed and appears increasing in his silliness; he explains that he needed something to break the tension of the day. His best friend was super annoying and just wouldn’t stop pestering him throughout the day and he’s not sure if he’ll be able to review for the clinical trial. He continues on that he likes being able to participate or contribute to trials and new drugs if they can help result in more options for patients in the future.

He’s playing with the stem of his wine glass looks a you. “What about you? You came here for a new job? What do you want to get out of it? Do you have any dreams you’d like to pursue?”

Having loose lips as you are on your third (and last you tell yourself) glass of wine, you answer more honestly than you would have on a second date. “I wouldn't say that I have dreams per se. More that I would like to keep doing a job that is interesting. Challenging.”

“Interesting. As in intellectually?” Wilson asks for elaboration on your point. He’s moved forward a bit to place his chin in his right hand while supporting with his elbow on the table. Wilson has become more attentive and forward, but he’s already on his fourth glass of wine and you at least aren’t trying to keep up with him.  
  
You nod first before replying, “Yeah a bit. I don’t like having a job where it becomes the same, I need to ask new questions or find a new solution. I got tired of having to answer the same questions and deal with students in my last position. Whining about grades, never listening or reading the directions. God, people can be such whiny idiots.” As these words you realized you’ve said too much and you hang your head and place your left hand on your face as you make a pained face.

Wilson remains silent. When you look back up, he’s still just looking at you, his lips are just slightly separated, and he has a look of understanding. He then immediately jolts back and in the process knocks his chopsticks off the table as they clatter on the floor.

“Argh. Shit. Sorry.” Wilson is capable of making only single word replies as he then pulls his chair out and is reaching under the table for the chopsticks.

He then re-emerges from beneath the table. “Oh, sorry about that. I didn’t mean to goad you into putting your foot in your mouth, but I just realized something. May I ask you a question?” He pauses as he cocks his head to the left and looks at you with big soft puppy dog eyes.

“Okay . . .” you reply trying to see where he’s going.

“Did you go into research because you dislike most people?” He flat out asks it not in a rude way but in a knowing way.

Realizing this will either make or break things for a possible date number three, you decide to reply honestly. He seems to be an excellent judge of people and he reads them quickly. 

“Yes. I’m not a big people person. I lack the skills that you clearly have down to an exact science.” With that you can feel yourself sweating like nuts hoping that your bluntness doesn’t end something before it has even started.

“I knew it! That’s why House gave you the honest list. He sensed you were a kindred spirit. He’s not losing his touch, he found you just tolerable enough that he didn’t mess with you.”

He then paused as he took a rather large sip of his wine and then looked away for a second sighing just ever so slightly.

You are perplexed by his response. “Is this a good thing or a bad thing to be tolerated by House?”

Wilson then had a look of embarrassment and panic as he brought up both of his hands and waved them animatedly as he rapidly spoke. “Oh, good thing, definitely a good thing.” He then takes a deep breath. “It means he won’t take the living piss out of you for no reason. If anything it says more about me than about you . . . .” he takes another gulp of his wine and never finishes the statement.

You breathe a sigh of relief and reply that you are relieved. At the same time Wilson also returns to a more relaxed state and he changes the subject to what you thought of the food.

Back on the topic of the banal, you reply that the mabo tofu was properly spicy, the vegetables were nice and crunchy and that you liked the pork but the beef was okay. Only because you aren’t a huge beef person you clarify.

Wilson then nudges your foot under the table as he looks directly at you. “I’m a little bit tipsy. Would you like to go to the café a few blocks over to have some dessert and sober up a bit?” He smiles at you almost egging you onto say yes and his eyebrows wiggle up and down.

You smile as you agree. Both of you finish the last of your wine and he flags down the waiter for the check. You take this chance to use the restroom and he makes it very clear that he will pay the bill. When you return the table, he’s handing over his credit card for the waiter to ring up the charges. Wilson politely excuses himself to the restroom and asks you to hold onto the bill when it comes back, but no peaking.

Upon return, he opens the small billfold, and scribbles in a tip as well as signing the merchant copy. He also copies his tip and final total on the customer copy, folds it neatly and places in his wallet along with the credit card.

“Shall we go?” He stands as he nods towards you and both of you put your coats back on and he grabs his briefcase. As you expect, he gestures for you to go first and he gently places his left hand on your left shoulder as you walk back to the entrance between the tables, now full of other diners.

Both of you grab the small melon hard candies on the way out and he thanks the hostess as he then opens the door for you to exit. Once outside you look around while asking him which direction the café is.

“Oh, turn left and we need to walk 3 blocks down and turn right to cross the street and 1 more block.” Just as you are turning both of you are startled by a loud shout.

“Wiiiiilllllllssssooooooon!!!!! How dare you deny me my Friday evening of Indian take out and brain rot! You can’t deny our love!!!!”

You turn to your right to see the grumpy doctor, House moving as quickly as possible leaning into his cane as he makes a beeline for the both of you. He’s wearing a fashionable leather motorcycle jacket, jeans and fancy running shoes.

Wilson has completely frozen like a deer in headlights, before turning to face House and stepping forward to place himself in front of you before the somewhat rapidly approaching House. 

“I knew it, the tie was a symptom. The diagnosis is a date!” House is now a cane length away as he raises it to chest level. His vivid blue eyes are intense as he looks Wilson dead on.

“What the hell House? I’m not wearing any special tie today according to your own observations. How’d you find me here and how long have you been waiting for me to come out? Is this a stake out?” Wilson is speaking as firmly as possible was his left hand punctuates each of his questions. You have to glance around his tall figure to get a good view of their confrontation.

“You wore the special tie on Monday, and it correlated with the foreign coffee cup. You saw her on Monday somewhere away from PPTH.” House glances towards you to emphasize the “her”. He then continues as he places his cane down and takes another step forward. “Chase spilled the beans on the location. You asked Thirteen and Chase for a less crowded place and gave them the name of the restaurant, that was your undoing Wilson.” House now has that exact same shit-eating grin from the speed dating event and he clearly is having a blast being a total pain in the ass.

Wilson makes an incredibly exasperated sigh as he repositions himself putting his hands on his hips and leaning back a little trying to display condescending body language.

“House, do you have any concept of privacy? And yes, before you answer that, I know it is a rhetorical question. Fine, I’m on a date, with someone I met from the speed dating event. You’ve found me out.”

Wilson then turns slightly to you and looks over his shoulder as he leans back to whisper. He’s got a smug look on his face ignoring that House is already retorting back.

“Oh yeah Wilson, you know that I need to know about your personal life to prevent you from making any more bad decisions. . . with those ex-wives and all!” House speaks with a level of vitriol that you can’t quite tell if he’s honestly this mean or if he’s hamming it up.  
  
It doesn’t matter because during House’s tirade, Wilson is ignoring him as he whispers, “We are going to make a run for it. It is the one thing that House won’t be able to do. When I give the signal, we sprint across the street and along the street towards the public parking deck past your place.”

“Hey Wilson, stop whispering sweet nothings to your date! Face me like a man!” House is leaning in closer to Wilson. Wilson’s eyes dart back and forth as he tries to look like a cornered animal.

Just as House takes a step closer to Wilson, he breaks into a huge grin and he yells “Now!” He’s grabbed your right hand with his left as he pulls you into a sprint around House and into the intersection.

And most shockingly, Wilson then let’s out a mock evil laugh while you dash away. “Mwha hahahahahaha. Make sure to try to keep up House! You’ve got proper running shoes on!” Wilson looks like a giddy school boy as he glances back at House angrily waving his cane at him.

The two of you sprint across the street and up your street towards your apartment. 

“Wilson! You get back here! I know you parked in the garage up the street. It is your favorite! I’ll catch up to you!” House is frantically yelling this at your backs as Wilson grips your hand tighter and still running away with a giant grin on his face as he’s enjoying this crazy argument.

After getting about halfway back towards your apartment, the two of you slow down. Panting and thinking it was smart to wear the oxfords you finally speak. “He isn’t actually going to chase us? Is he? How does he know where you parked?” Wilson leans forward places his hands on his thighs taking deep breathes as he looks at you. 

“With House, you should always expect him to follow through. As far as public parking garages, he’s right, my favorite one is a few blocks past your place. It is cheaper than the rest and also it never fills up in the weekend since it isn’t as close to the main street where we just were.” Wilson is still breathing heavily but begins to straighten himself upright when all of a sudden, a motorcycle is heard off in the distance. 

“Oh shit! Come on, we need to hide!” Wilson has a look of giddy panic as he grabs you and pulls you into the small gap between midrise buildings. He moves so that your back is to the brick exterior of one of the buildings and he presses himself up against you hoping that both of you are in the shadows. The sound of the motorcycle gets closer – it is a sport bike and the engine roars a few times as it becomes louder, closer and slows down.

Wilson has placed his left hand on the wall over your right shoulder, and his right hand with his briefcase is on the other side. He has turned his head to look over his left shoulder and his eyes are darting back and forth. You look up at him watching his face as he’s focused on the street. He’s breathing heavily and you see the rise and fall of his chest and see a little sweat on his brow. There is just a twinge of a smile in the corner of his mouth, he’s enjoying this, but trying hard to stay serious.

You can feel his firm body pressed up against you. He’s tall and warm as his scarf tickles the left side of your neck and you try your best to not cough. You can smell his cologne strongly from his sweat and the mix of smells from his coat and scarf. The light from the nearby lamps illuminate his pale skin on his face and on part of his neck. You don’t think he’s even quite aware that he’s “trapped” you up against the wall. As odd as this seems, your heart is racing, and you like the spontaneity of this moment. He isn’t as calculating as he appears to be.

The motorcycle is now very close as it approaches. The sound of the performance engine hums indicating it is slowing down. Wilson audibly holds his breath as he whispers “stay very still” and he freezes while keeping his eyes on the street. You see the motorcycle go by from the limited view and it continues on down the street.

Wilson then relaxes and looks down at you as he sighs and he’s smirking to himself. His eyes then dart back and forth as he realizes he’s essentially pinned you up against the wall. “Oh!” and he jumps back a little. “Sorry, I got carried away. That was House following us on his motorcycle. He’s likely looking for us all the way towards the garage.”

He then predictably ruffles his hair with his left hand, looks at his shoes before he returns his gaze towards you. “I think we should wait a few more minutes before heading towards your place and my car.” He has such a serious looking expression and with that the tension breaks.

You are just looking at him as he seems totally fine with what happened and then he bursts into a grin as, he hangs his head down meekly. “This was your intro to House 101. Take notes. I forget he really doesn’t make a lot of sense to most people.” He then fidgets unsure of how to follow up that statement and just shoves his left and into his pocket.

“Shall we continue on?” You look at Wilson feeling a bit playful and tap him on the side of his right arm.

“Yeah.” He turns and takes a few steps onto the sidewalk and then stops. “Since House interrupted our attempt to get dessert, I’m not as sober as I was hoping to be.” He then fidgets as he looks at you with his puppy dog eyes. “Do you think I could have a cup of coffee or something to sober up at your place? I’m normally not this forward.” He looks down at his feet as again, he’s ruffling the back of his head with his hand and then pleads at you from under his thick lashes.

After a pause thinking that a sober driver is better than a drunk one, you grant him his request. “Okay, I can make you a cup of tea or give you some water, it isn’t that late anyways since we had dinner at a reasonable time.” His eyes sparkle bringing out his boyish looks. 

“Thanks, I appreciate it.” Wilson nods to you gently as you then walk back towards your apartment at a leisurely pace. He aimlessly swings his briefcase in his right hand as you walk side by side commenting on other people you see along the way back to your place. 

At your apartment, Wilson opens the main lobby door and you unlock the inner doors to the corridor. You lead him up the stairs and to your apartment which faces the main road from where you just entered. 

“Nice place. Turn of the century building?” Wilson asks as you put your key in the door. You give a simple reply “1920s.” Before you can say anything else, you hear a meow on the other side of the door. Keith is excited by your return. You look at Wilson as he turns to you at the same time after hearing the meow. “I’ve got a cat, I forgot to mention that. You aren’t allergic, are you?” 

“Oh no. I’ve had cats before.” Wilson replies as you enter the apartment. Upon entering your place, you remove your shoes and ask Wilson to do the same as Keith is rubbing up against you. You place your shoes on the shoe rack and slide into a pair of slippers while he slides his feet out of his shoes and arranges them neatly next to the rack. He has blue socks on that match his dress shirt. 

You hang up your coat on a coat rack right next to the door and he also places his there as well with his light scarf. Wilson is looking around as he then leans down to pet Keith. “What’s the cat’s name? Seems very friendly.” Keith is leaning into Wilson looking very pleased with his new friend.

“Oh, that’s Keith, I adopted him about a year ago. He’s estimated to be about 6 years old.” As you move towards the kitchen, Keith breaks away from the allure of Wilson and follows you expecting a snack. 

Your apartment is pretty basic with no real foyer or entrance hallway. It just opens into your living room with two windows that look out onto the main street below to the left. You have a couch and chair facing the windows and a tv between both windows. At the far end of the living room is a built-in fireplace. Your bedroom is to the right of the fireplace, it has a single window that faces the neighboring building, but Wilson doesn’t know that yet. Next to the bedroom is the bathroom, not very large but has a small washer/dryer combo inside along with a shower, small set of shelves, the sink and toilet. Closer to the entrance is the kitchen, where you have placed a small table that can seat two and the sink shares a wall with the bathroom. Across from the sink is the stove and refrigerator. The far wall opposite of the living room windows has the cabinets and a pantry. 

While you put the kettle on, you glance out to see Wilson walking around the living room. You have a few bookshelves next to the wall directly to the left of the entrance and he’s looking over them as he examines your artwork and pictures on display as well.

He peeks out the window at the main street below and wanders towards the fireplace. 

“Not a bad apartment. You like older buildings? This one doesn’t scream modern but character?” Wilson asks as he’s just meandering about.

You peek your head out from the kitchen as Keith flirts with your feet. “Yes, I have a habit of living in places that are usually at least 100 years old or so. Sadly, my last place was built in the ‘30s making it the “newest”. I like older buildings and they are usually located in more convenient places as a result.”   
  
“Which of these other doors leads to the bathroom?” You reply to Wilson which one is the bathroom as you pull out two mugs.

After hearing the flush of the toilet and the sink running, he walks into your small kitchen to see you watching the kettle. “Anything I can do to help?” Wilson asks as he really looks like he wants to be helpful.

“No, I’m good but thanks for the offer? What type of tea?” You show him your large herbal tea selection. He looks over it and pulls out a lemon ginger teabag and hands it to you. His fingers just slightly touch yours and he smiles sweetly. He pauses and heads back to the living room.

You place a lavender chamomile tea bag into your mug and his lemon ginger into the other. The kettle whistles and you pour the boiling water into both cups. Taking a small spoon and saucer in one hand you balance the two mugs in your other as you enter the living room. Handles are a great invention you think to yourself.

Wilson is sitting in the middle of the couch and Keith is sitting on his lap has he strokes his chin. Keith’s eyes are closed as he is in a state of cat bliss. You move a coaster on your coffee table in front of the couch to the left of Wilson and place the steaming hot mug on top of it. He’s made an interesting predicament for you. Either you could sit on the chair which is at a right angle to the couch facing the short side of the coffee table. It would allow you to put your tea also down on the coffee table and you could face him while seated. 

However, you could sit on the couch, but that would put you right next to him. It would make it easier to reach the tea and if either of you moved any, you could be physically touching. But you can still feel the buzz of the alcohol from dinner and you are less hesitant than normal. You place your mug on a coaster to his right and put the spoon and saucer between both of you.

You sit down on the couch next to him.

“You’ve become friends with Keith quickly.” You nod towards Keith enjoying the attention he’s getting. Keith then opens his eyes before he rotates curling up in his lap. 

Wilson looks at you as he replies. “Not only am a doctor by day, but I am a cat whisper by night! I truly am a man of multiple talents.” 

He looks happy with Keith curled up on his lap, “Thanks for the tea and for letting me sober up a little.” Wilson has this dopey looking smile as he looks at you and then lovingly looks down at Keith, petting him softly.

As the tea steeps, you pull out a remote control for your stereo and put it on a local indie station. You hear an Arcade Fire song that fades to Washed Out over the stereo speakers. You glance to Wilson, before you ask him if he doesn’t mind the music selection. 

He just shrugs as he replies, “I’m not really one for having refined music taste. I enjoy some jazz and I have a soft spot for show tunes, but really it isn’t a big deal for me.” 

Overall, he seems quite indifferent to music. You are certain that he likely enjoys some songs and artists but based on the type of person he visually presents himself as, you can see him being rather ambivalent towards having a strong opinion on music. He gives off a vibe that he just goes with the flow when it comes to pop culture, media and entertainment.

The smell of your tea floats up to tickle your nose and you realize it would be a good time to remove the tea bag. As you lean forward you reach your left hand to pick up the spoon on the saucer to extract the bag floating in the mug. It seems that Wilson has the same idea and instead of grabbing the spoon your hand collides with his left hand just over the dish. Both of you jump back and are apologizing as the spoon gets knocked off to the side on the coffee table as both of you quickly pull your hands back with an awkward jerk.

Wilson looks totally embarrassed, “I’m so sorry, I didn’t realize you were reaching for the spoon at the same time!” His eyebrows are furrowed, and he looks down towards you and then glances back to the spoon.

“Oh no, it is no big deal! I guess I should have said something. Go ahead and use the spoon first.” You gesture towards it and notice that Keith has woken up, looking as though he was rudely interrupted from enjoying the warm comfort of Wilson’s lap.

“Are you sure? I don’t want to look like I was being overbearing.” Wilson still looks overly serious and apologetic. 

“No no no. You are my guest, so go ahead.” You are trying really hard to make sure he uses it first.

Wilson stares at you for what seems like a longer than necessary time. He then looks at you one more time “Are you sure?” and he’s leaning towards you a bit as he begins to reach towards the spoon.

You nod and he then finally picks up the spoon and scoops the teabag out of the mug and places it on the saucer. He then offers you the spoon, adjusting it between his fingers so that you can grab the handle. As you grasp it, he ghosts his fingers over yours and he smiles very softy as he speaks, “Here.” Even though he has verbally offered you the spoon, his eyes seem to say much more of the simple offer of the spoon.

Feeling a bit of a blush beginning to grow on your cheeks you break eye contact by focusing on using the spoon to remove the tea bag and placing it on the saucer and then return the spoon as you pick up the cup in your left hand to take a sip of the hot tea. Stupid Dr. James Wilson, making you feel like a teenager with a crush.

The situation feels a bit heavy as you can feel tension between you and the only solution is to continue to sip your tea while trying not to look too intently at him. Thankfully, he’s in the same boat as you; he turns away from you to grab his cup of tea and also takes a sip while he looks away for a moment.

Wilson’s movement is enough to annoy Keith who is trying to ignore any movement from his large and comfortably warm heating pad he has colonized. As you sip your tea in silence it is broken by an audible yawn from Keith who then meows and then stands up on his lap stretching his entire body and hitting Wilson square in the face with his large fluffy tail. The tail smack leaves Wilson making a rather garbled “Gah – pppfffttt” sound as he turns his face out of the range of the tail. Both of you turn to look at Keith who then hops down to the floor and trots over to the chair, leaping up on it and then curling up and making himself comfortable.

“It seems Keith expects you to sacrifice your own comfort for his.” You start out saying this turned away from Wilson looking at Keith on the chair but then turn back to smile at him as you conclude your statement.

He shrugs his arms in a rather dramatic fashion as his screws his face up a little looking down at an inexact spot on the floor before turning to look back at you. “Apparently, I’m losing my cat whispering mojo.” He hangs his head as he lets out a dramatic sigh.

“Oh, I don’t think your cat mojo is in question, I think you just weren’t self-sacrificing enough. I’ve never seen Keith leap up into a stranger’s lap so quickly. I think we’ve just cramped his cat style.” You take another sip of your tea as he meekly smiles in response to your verbal reassurance. He places his mug of tea down on the coaster to ruffle the hair at the back of his head and sheepishly blush a little.

“I hope so. I’d hate to lose my cat mojo. It is one of my best non-work-related skills. Well, I’m also excellent at paper football and I’ve been told that I’m an above average dancer.” He readjusts himself on the couch now to extend his legs a little, he sticks his feet on the support beams of the coffee table. He leans back into the couch a bit more as he crosses his arms across his chest and wiggles down a bit to get comfortable. 

He then glances back towards you turning his head only, “Sorry, for putting you on the spot like this, I should be sober enough to drive in a little bit. Thankfully, it isn’t that late, meeting for dinner at a reasonable time gives you a lot more free time in the evening. I should do this more often.” He then pulls his sleeve back to check his watch. “I mean look at that, it is only 8:30!” he pauses as something seems to click in his head before he lets out a delayed “Wow. 8:30. I can get to bed at a reasonable hour.” He smiles to himself as he resettles to get back into his slouch.

You have just been drinking your tea listening to him and now that he’s in a less public place and relaxed you can see how exhausted he is. Based on your brief encounters with his friend House, you figure that he must deal with a lot of shit from his friend. He sure as hell must be some friend, but you get the feeling that despite the “confrontation” this evening, Wilson enjoys these bizarre antics. The fact that he immediately came up with and escape plan and seemed giddy after hiding from him would indicate that they have some sort of unconventional friendship.

It makes some sense in your mind with limited information. He seems to try very hard to be polite, professional, affable, and well liked. Perhaps being friends with someone so outrageous and abrasive is a relief for him from his need to be perfect?

“You okay? You’ve been quiet for a few minutes.” Wilson has interrupted your thoughts as he addresses you and he’s gently placed his right hand on your left knee. His face is searching yours for some sort of answer.

“Oh yeah, I’m fine. I zoned out a bit. I’m going to get myself a glass of water. Would you like one?” With that he nods and takes his hand off of your knee. All of a sudden, the tea has reminded you of how much wine you had with dinner and you head into the bathroom first. After removing excess fluids from yourself, you turn into the kitchen. Your buzz is definitely gone, but now you can feel the need to hydrate. 

After filling two glasses with regular water, you return to the living room. Keith is no longer on the chair and for a second you think that Wilson has gone to the bathroom. As you approach the couch you see that he has changed position having fallen over to the left while his legs dangle off the couch at an odd angle. Keith has reclaimed Wilson as his own and lays across Wilson’s chest and he is out cold. You can hear steady breathing indicating he’s asleep and Keith only briefly opens his eyes to look at you before he closes them and snuggles into Wilson’s chest.  
  
Not quite sure what to do, you place the glass of water on the coffee table with some distance between it and Wilson and you quietly sit down in the chair and drink your water. Glancing at a clock on your bookshelves, you confirm that it is 8:57pm on a Friday night and Dr. James Wilson is down and out for the count. The man is clearly a wild party animal! Har har har. You’ve gained an accidental couch surfer and Keith has decided that he’s a perfect personal heating pad/cat bed.  
  
You use the stereo remote to turn off the radio and quietly turn on the tv to watch HGTV where they are renovating a random house somewhere in Austin, Texas. Yes, you think to yourself, yet another mid-century modern house that will be renovated to be open concept and remove the wonderful things known as walls.

As HGTV queues up another exciting renovation, this time in the Bay Area, you roll your eyes at the cost of the “small” house thinking about how property ownership is impossible for you. All of a sudden, you hear a grunt from Wilson followed by almost muttering half-awake/asleep sounds as he starts to wake up. “What the . . .” and he glances around your unfamiliar living room through barely open, blinking eyes as his hair is sticking out at all sorts of interesting angles. “Why is a cat . . .” and Keith mews in response to his realization that Keith is on his stomach before he dismounts to the floor. 

Liberated from the clutches of Keith, Wilson hesitantly and sleepily sits up looking at the tv and then finally focuses on you. “What happened? Errr, I must have fallen asleep. I’m so sorry. What time is it?”

You look at him with just a twinge of amusement but mainly glad that he’s woken back up since you weren’t sure what to do. “It is just past 10. I came back from the kitchen with some water and you were out cold, plus Keith was asleep on your chest.”

He seems to be on a few second delay as he nods slowly. “Ok, definite conformation that my cat mojo is still working. Why didn’t you wake me?”

You aren’t quite sure why you didn’t wake him; you tilt your head to the right as you ponder that yourself. “Seemed like once you were comfortable, it was obvious you were exhausted. I know it isn’t the smoothest second date move, but I get the feeling that if I let you keep sleeping, it would be fine.” 

Wilson looks incredibly embarrassed, again ruffling his hair with his hand as he hangs his head. He sighs as he sits back up, “I guess I was trying too hard to play it cool even though I was feeling a bit nervous and tired from work.” And he says this without his usual public face, which is more attractive you think, but it is clear he thinks he made a mistake so he’s clearly making a strategic retreat.

“Oh, it’s fine. Now that you are up, have that glass of water. Would you like an ibuprofen as well?” He notices that glass on the coffee table near him and he smiles at you relieved. You haven’t rejected him due to his exhaustion and general lame-ness. 

And then he gives you the softest smile but his eyes have an additional interest in them. It is the same as his I’m being a smooth, polite, attractive guy, more a feeling of he’s thinking about something beyond basic flattery. He finally speaks, “Thanks, and I’ll take two ibuprofen.”

After he’s fully awake, properly hydrated and has introduced some legal painkillers into his system, Wilson gets up and begins to collect his things. He’s got his shoes, scarf and coat on and he turns to you opening his arms clearly, looking for a hug with a return to his more public soft smile.

You step up to him and give him the hug he’s looking for. It is different than the hug from last week; hell, it is different from his greeting hug earlier tonight. His right arm wraps around your waist while his left arm reaches diagonally across your back with his left hand covering your left shoulder. He’s pulled you in more tightly and he smells a bit more authentic, there is sweat, musk and a twinge of an antiseptic hospital smell all intermixed, but no real cologne anymore, long gone from this morning and washed away by the dash to escape House’s pursuit. You settle to wrap your arms around his waist and place your palms on his back with a little bit of pressure as you move them minimally against the canvas texture of his coat. He pulls you in a little tighter as he bends his head down to quietly speak in your left ear.

“Thank you.” and with that he relaxes and releases you from the hug. He bends down to grab his briefcase with his right hand and opens your door with his left. “Goodnight. Shall I call you about next weekend?” His body language indicates that he already knows what you are going to say.

“Yes. I would like that. Good night and drive safely.” He smiles in response and gently shuts the door behind him with a soft click.

You lock the deadbolt, clean up the glasses and mugs taking them into the kitchen as you then flop down on the couch face first. His scent lingers on the surface of the cushions and you know it is going to be a restless night. Nevertheless, you shower and go to bed with Keith and hope you get enough sleep.


	3. the third date - art - dinner - theatre

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You continue to get to know Doctor James Wilson with a third date. The type of date that I think Wilson would default to based on what we know about him.
> 
> Prepare for the fluff! Wilson is a proper gentleman, it is okay to indulge in a more traditional gender role occasionally. Don't worry, our reader will become more pro-active in the next chapter, she had to learn enough about Wilson before making a game plan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A few bits of dialogue refer to the difference between doctors and 'real' doctors. This is a common joke/remark that is used between individuals who have Ph.D.s This is because the official title of Doctor is granted to that person, but the person is not a medically trained doctor. It is not meant to offend anyone, more a product of the general dark and dry humor of many people within these groups.

Wilson exhausted but now sober exits the apartment building to walk a few more blocks to his car in the parking garage. He is in a bit of a daze as he tries to figure out how he didn’t mess up his second date. The events of the evening replay in his head. He drank more than he had anticipated hoping to have a flirty dessert and then to escort her to her apartment entrance and then head to his car. Instead, he sprinted away from House, who already figured out he’s finally putting himself back out there on the dating landscape and he couldn’t even get a to a third date before House was onto him. Post-Vicodin House is definitely more clingy than he was expecting and he expected a lot of clingy-ness after Mayfield.

He enters the garage and takes the stairs up to the level where his silver Volvo is parked alone. This public garage is his ‘secret’, so few people use it after work hours and it is in a clutch location. He shakes his head as he begins to focus on his play by play replay of the evening. Not only did House blurt out that he has an ex-wife, but he used the plural. He physically made his date sprint away and then he almost squished her against a random wall to play this game with House. He feels guilty for enjoying his antics with House, but it felt so good the get back at the ex-wife comment giving him shit about running, well specifically his inability to run. 

Using the fob, he unlocks the door and tosses his briefcase on the passenger side as he sits down. He pauses after he inserts the keys into the ignition, however, he doesn’t turn on the engine just yet. Instead, he adjusts the rearview mirror and pauses to look at his face and he sees bags under his eyes. He sighs as he feels embarrassed, that not only did he need to ask to go into his date’s apartment – too bold for his style – but that he feel asleep on her couch with her cat on top of himself!

Yet, he thinks as he adjusts the rearview mirror to the night angle, he managed to get a third date set up. It can only mean one thing; he’s still got it. He’s still got what it takes to slowly seduce a woman. With that, he grins to himself and turns the engine on to exit the garage.

Wilson drives home earlier than after any evening spent with House and makes it uneventfully to his condo. He tosses his keys in the bowl on his entryway table, hangs up his coat and enters his bedroom to undress and take a quick shower before he heads to bed. He can research third date plans tomorrow.

* * *

Saturday morning, Keith wakes you up at his usual time for breakfast. You can feel the slight aftereffects of drinking the night before. Sure, you hydrated and took some ibuprofen before bed, but you can still tell you had a little bit too much to drink the night before. You haul yourself out of bed to feed Keith, go to the bathroom, drink another glass of water and then go back to bed. Ugh, you are definitely feeling closer to forty than thirty today. Keith comes to join you after his breakfast, and you sleep in.

Finally, able to get up around 10, you make yourself some oatmeal and coffee. You then check your phone. No calls or text messages. But then again, you don’t think Wilson would be the type of person who’d text anyways. He is much more direct; he has to talk about things.

As you eat your breakfast you go over the events of your date last night. Wilson was a very polite and for the most part, a comfortable person to go on a date with. He’s good with conversation, considerate, he’s flirty without being overbearing and it was good. Much less forced than dates that you’ve usually been on, which is a relief. You spent far too long trying to date within a ‘scene’ and learned that dudes who are die hard members of various aspects of counterculture may seem cool at first, but you like having healthcare, no roommates and a retirement plan. Not to be radical or anything like that . . .

Though, you suddenly remember something that his friend House had said the night before. He had referred to Wilson making bad decisions and ex-wives. As in more than one ex-wife!!! You were wondering what was “wrong” with him after your first date. Is this it? Can you trust what House said or was House just being an ass. House didn’t look like the type of person though who’d make random stuff to be a huge ass. He had the vibe of someone who is an honest and huge ass.

All of a sudden you have a sense of anxiety about the fact that you already agreed to a third date. Shit, shit, shit, shit. What were you thinking? You got swept up in his weird cat and mouse game with House.

Your thoughts are interrupted by a beerrrrt noise from Keith has he jumps up onto the table next to your empty bowl and your half drank cup of coffee, looking for some pets. You give him some nice scratches under his chin as he purrs, and your brain is able to reset. Before you start hypothesizing what all is _wrong_ with Dr. James Wilson, you’ll give you best friend a call for advice. With that resolved, you text your friend to arrange a skype either later that day or tomorrow. It is hard when your best friend is currently in Saskatoon, thousands of miles (or would you say kilometers?) away and unlimited North American long distance isn’t really a big thing in the States.

The rest of Saturday is spent puttering around your place. You do laundry, basic cleaning and just chill as you wait to hear back from your friend. He texts you to let you know he can chat tomorrow. You relax a bit more knowing you will be able to talk through things with him and think a second opinion will be good.

* * *

Wilson slept in on Saturday. He rolls over to see that his alarm clock displays 9:30 am. He can definitely feel the aftereffects of last night. No more(!) cheap house wine in the near future he thinks . . . at least he isn’t really hurting. More that the sulfites have messed with his allergies a bit and he’s got that stuffy nose thing going on. 

He drags himself out of bed wearing a soft grey t-shirt and navy blue pajama pants. The floor is cold to the touch; it is definitely fall now, so he pulls out some slippers and throws his McGill sweatshirt over his t-shirt. Wilson doesn’t connect with many physical objects within his possession. He drives House nuts with is lack of an opinion on furniture, décor and most aesthetic things. House’s obsession with so many possessions, seems confusing to him.

Out of everyone he knows, House is the one with the most curated home full of instruments, modern artwork, old medical textbooks, sleek modern furniture all in a Victorian apartment and they ‘work’. For being such an anti-social person, House’s apartment screams that it needs to be shown off to others. He has put years into decorating and furnishing his place. In contrast, Wilson has never cared about his home. He lived in dorms in undergrad and moved into apartments with roommates and the onto an apartment with his first ex, Sam in medical school. It really set up a pattern of letting his female partner worry about those things. Having lived with a bunch of dudes he didn’t cultivate much of a sense of style, he cared more if the kitchen and bathroom were clean. Once he started co-habitating with women, it was just so much easier to let them call all the shots. To advance his career to be a Department Head in his mid-30s meant he spent a lot of time at work, so it didn’t matter to him if the curtains in the second bathroom were lavender or sea foam green. It was dark when he got up to go to work and it was dark when he got home; it really didn’t matter. It was one less thing to worry about, and if it made his personal life less stressful with conflicts around silly little things, the better for him. 

But he loves his McGill sweatshirt, a reminder of the simplicity of undergraduate life in Montreal. He got to live in a city where fashionable Quebecois surrounded him, he learned enough French to function, yet they always spoke to him in English. . . . if only he didn’t look so obviously Anglo. It was an amazing place to be a poor student, working his ass off to get into medical school back in the States and the name recognition of McGill helped. And the bagels – the Montreal bagels were heavenly. Even after attending Columbia med, he still preferred Montreal bagels to New York’s.

He uses the bathroom, and shuffles into the kitchen to put the coffee maker on and drink a glass of orange juice while he waits for the coffee to brew. Once he has a cup of coffee in his hands, he sits down at the kitchen island on one of the stools and sips his coffee while he looks over the news on his laptop. The thought of bagels lingers in his mind and before he knows it, he’s got a bagel on the toaster and he’s getting ready to spread some cream cheese over it.

With his bagel breakfast, he pours himself his second cup of coffee, spoiling himself with some vanilla creamer in this cup instead of his standard splash of milk. He pulls out a notebook and pen and thinks about third date ideas. Last night he wasn’t too sure about seeing a woman’s apartment on a second date, his personal rule of thumb is by date three but ideally four to get an invite into her place with the obvious implications of having sex. He’s feeling a bit better this morning that it wasn’t a disaster, plus, while she was in the kitchen, he had time to look around her place. This gives him a unique advantage he’d normally lack; he saw her décor; books, music, artwork as well as her cute cat, Keith. The furniture was modern, but warm and clean so casual and relaxed. She had some family photos, but lots of arsty prints for shows; some bands something like Arcade Fire and The Joy Formidable as well as a framed comic print, some dorky looking kid with a road bike – anime related maybe and a print of Lake Ontario. Her theme isn’t cohesive other than that they are prints? Or things that she likes are prints. 

On the notepad he writes: print artwork/ pop art?

She didn’t have a lot of books, but it was alluded to that she’s moved a fair bit for her career something he did a lot before coming to Princeton and something he’s still doing. He understands the pain of moving books. While looking her few books he tried to organize them, some classics: Middlemarch, Anna Karenina, Twain, Banana Yoshimoto, Michael Ondaatje there was a smattering of old art history textbooks and artbooks (unusual for a working molecular biologist) and then the rest appeared to be comics and graphic novels (and fancy ones at that! Hardcover!) as well as series with numbers on the spine indicating some sort of serial comic. And a copy of “Roberts Rules of Order” which leaves him both curious and confused and a bunch of books by John Raulston Saul about – Canadian government? He found almost no DVDs, and the collection was equally random, Doctor Who (2005-present), The Thick of It, Fortysomething, a series called FLCL, Slings and Arrows (he remembers Julie trying to get him to watch it with her), as few other anime series and a – movie about the band Joy Division. He didn’t see any CDs but he didn’t get to look in the bedroom.

He glances back to the notepad to add to it:

Print artwork/ pop art?

Classic literature

Modern lit

Lots of comics – again pop art

TV shows from the UK? More than a passing knowledge of Canadian things?

He fiddles with his pen in his left hand as he makes a second column to collect themes from this. What a random mix of things, it would be helpful to have House’s opinion what this all means . . . and then he shakes his head and returns to try to create his own summary of things. House may be a genius at reading people but when was his last successful date? Stacy. And that was only because she shot him with a paintball.

Modern art/pop art/nerdy pop culture

Taste in books hard to pin down – need more info

UK movies/tv/humor? Possible

After Chase and Thirteen tipped House off to his date last night he needs to be much more careful this time. He will not talk to anyone at work and based on this list of possible interests, no one on House’s team will be able to help him out. Well, not anymore, with the loss of Kutner.

He recalled when he and Cuddy accidentally went to a modern art show a few years ago. If he started at that gallery’s website, he could see what type of trendy things were happening in town or even on the college campus. The university had all sorts of fancy events and art related events that were open to the public, well with the intention of attracting affluent members and future donor from the area.

Thankfully after some googling, he’s able to find several art galleries that have shows that are currently on exhibition next weekend, but unfortunately, they aren’t open after 6pm on Friday through Sunday. He could do a Saturday afternoon start, dinner and maybe a movie? Or play? Does she look like a play person or movie person – she didn’t have many movies, maybe a play would be better?

Lost in thought, he loses track of time and before he knows it, he’s had his third cup of coffee, it is after noon and he’s still in his pajamas. Realizing he needs to still run errands, like going to the grocery store, he hustles into the shower to wash off the sleep and so that he can style his hair before heading out into public. With his appearance in order, he quickly eats a sandwich and yogurt and heads out to run his errands. He will finalize the plans tomorrow.

The rest of his Saturday is uneventful, he cooks supper, watches a documentary on PBS about the domestication of cats and makes himself go to bed early. Sunday morning, he wakes up at his usual time, and reserves tickets for a Princeton University performance of “Much Ado About Nothing” for the Saturday evening performance, triple checks that the art gallery is covered by the general admission ticket and makes a reservation for two at the White Lion Tavern at 5:00pm. Mission completed and House will not be able to figure this out with no insider information! All there is left to do is to confirm everything with her.

* * *

Sunday is relaxed and you and your best friend manage to video chat in the early evening. It always reminds you how much it sucks when jobs force you to be far from friends, but you are at least thankful that both of you are still in North America. The conversation starts out with banal pleasantries; are you settling in ok? How is the new apartment? What is the job like?

This is how conversations with close friends always go, you have to ease into the more serious content as you make that connection. You ask how his partner is doing, and she waves over the camera in the background and eventually reach your obligatory point of asking about your pets. He reports his relatively old rabbit is still doing well and you report on Keith’s general cat existence is fine and use him as a transition to discuss the topic why you wanted to talk to your best friend in the first place. Your dates with Wilson.

“Keith made a new friend on Friday night.” You pause as you wait to see how your friend responds. 

“Keith made a new friend? Did you have someone from work over – or is this about someone you met?” You find it comforting how your friend simply asks without any subtext. Just the facts.

You feel still slightly nervous, but it is hard to transmit that via a camera over the internet. Thank goodness you think to yourself. “Yeah, I broke down and went to a speed dating event. It was quite the collection of overachieving professionals.” 

He nods and adds the color commentary of “So, ‘real’ doctors, lawyers and whatnot.” As you nod along before continuing.

“I ended up matching with a guy. My type for the most part; tall, dark hair, clean cut. Preppier than I’d normally go for, but in a cute way.” Your friend is listening with care as he nods along and jumps in “How hot? Or more cute?” You pause before responding and he immediately knows, “Cute then, you’ve always been odd in what you find attractive.” He smiles fondly at you and you just laugh. It is one of the benefits of knowing someone for fifteen years, you know and accept their ‘unusual’ opinions and taste with gentle teasing and no real malice or ill intent.

“Okay go on.” He wants to you get to the point why you are consulting with him. He knows you want his input and it you decide to give a quick recap of things. 

“Yeah, yeah. I met this cute doctor at the speed dating event. He was wearing a v-neck sweater with a dress shirt and jeans, nothing too radical or on trend but it worked.” You prepare yourself for what your best friend will say next.

“Your sweater fetish rears its head again! What is it with you and sweaters?” He’s laughing at you as he blurts this out and you just hold your hands over your face until he stops giggling.

“What type of doctor is he? GP?” you best friend is done pulling your leg and back on track.

“Oncologist at a local teaching hospital. Definitely much more well paid than us and seems to be fairly advanced in his career, he’s apparently on the board.” You wait to see his reply.

“Nice, so someone with drive. Likely as into work as much as you are.” Your friend confirms that so far things look okay. But he knows where this is going, he knows you want him to help you see if there are any issues.

You then give him a recap of the first date, how he used his local knowledge as a way to introduce you to the town in a casual fashion. Of course, you included how he looked, the bit about the sandwiches and the fact that he drives a Volvo and ending the summary with the fact he was called back to work on call.

You friend comments that things seem okay, so you must have more information. He allows you to continue. You mention the Monday ‘pseudo’ lunch date which he agrees was a clever move to work his way in but still appearing to be natural. You get to the second date which was good at the Chinese place. But then House showed up. Which leads you to finally address what has been bothering you. The statement by House that Wilson has multiple ex-wives. 

Should you be concerned you ask him? You don’t think the friend is making this up and is there something wrong with this guy? He seems fairly normal and innocent but multiple marriages imply that he’s not a good bet in the long term.

Your friend agrees that it could be a warning sign, but asks what his age is? It may not be that many bad relationships and maybe he’s the kind of guy who doesn’t just date people and feels the need to make it more serious? 

Your friend allows you to pause putting things in perspective. Wilson is older than you, you think he’s in his early forties so more than one marriage from his twenties until then isn’t that odd, enough of your friends and relatives are on their second marriage or even second divorce. You also realize you shouldn’t make the worst assumption unless you know more about things and he doesn’t seem like a type of person who isn’t considerate. Maybe it has to do with him being overly considerate.

Your friend understands why you wanted to talk and finally asks how this ties into Keith making a new friend. “You didn’t sleep with him on the second date, did you?” he asks and you are immediately responding. 

“Oh goodness no! I need to finish the story!” and you fill in the rest about House chasing you down on the motorcycle and him needed to sober up, so he asked if he could come in, and you could tell he was a little uncomfortable. He fell asleep on the couch before 9 and Keith snuggled up on him. 

You friend now understands the full situation and he wonders if you are considering a third date. He thinks it is too early to write off this guy and even if it doesn’t work out, you’ve at least found “tour guide” to the area. His advice is right. You should take this slowly and if it becomes obvious, he’s not good dating material, you can move on. 

The rest of the video chat returns to other topics and you get an update on his interdepartmental politics and you move onto what albums you’ve recently bought. The call eventually wraps up and he wishes you luck with things and you thank him for listening.

Feeling more at ease after consulting with your best friend you are feeling a bit more comfortable to continue things forward. You make supper and while you are washing the dishes, your phone rings. It is Wilson, and he’s not calling super early in the morning. Interesting.

You pick up the phone and he pleasantly asks if he isn’t interrupting or if he’s calling at a bad time. You assure him it is fine; you are just washing the dishes. 

You can see his little soft smile in your mind as he relaxes that he’s not interrupting something.

“Are you free on Saturday? Afternoon and evening only, I have some things planned out.” Wilson sounds confident over the phone line as though he’s got this nailed.

You reply that you are totally open, as you still don’t have much of a social life having just moved here. 

“Good, good. There is an art gallery show that features current artwork from up and coming artists with comic book influences. The gallery closes at 5, so I was thinking we could head there at 3. I made reservations for the local White Lion tavern at 5 and got tickets for the Princeton University performance of “Much Ado About Nothing” which starts at 6:45. How does all of that sound?” he asks with a twinge of nervousness that is barely perceptible under his casual confidence.

You are impressed yet not shocked at his level of detail and organization. The art gallery sounds interesting, and you haven’t seen a play for years. What is best is that none of these activities are high risk, they are things you feel comfortable doing and are similar to dates that you’ve been on in the past. What flatters you more is that he picked a gallery exhibition that is something you really like. Either he has great instincts or somehow, he made a good guess. Right now, it doesn’t matter, you like what you’ve heard, and you thank him for the invite and that you think the plans are excellent. You will see him on Saturday.

“That’s great, I’ll pick you up at your place at 2:50 then. Take care and I’ll see you on Saturday.” Wilson sounds energetic over the phone and he’s relieved that you’ve agreed to his well thought out plans. With that the two of you hang up and you smile to yourself. It feels good to have someone paying attention to you. . .

With that you finish up washing the dishes, you wrap up with your standard evening routine and head to bed.

* * *

Wilson is in a good mood Monday morning. His date for Saturday is set, he’s already triple checked the schedule so it will be impossible for him to be on call and this week doesn’t have any major meetings. His only issue is convincing Cuddy to let him be a reviewer for the clinical trial and he is going to lay the groundwork for winning her over this week.

He knows that House will seek him out to follow up about his date from Friday night, so he deliberately makes sure to appear calm. He’s known House long enough that he can keep House off of his scent when he puts in a little more effort, the one skill that no one else here at Princeton-Plainsboro has learned in all of these years. It may also contribute to why he’s the only person who sees House as a friend as he can face him on even ground.

To keep House at bay, he picks a neutral look, cream dress shirt, dark brown suit, matching brown shoes with a simple brown, mustard and burgundy tie. With a little luck, House will be sulking on Monday morning due to his escape and also the fact that he very unusually had two back to back cases. Cuddy also never schedules House for Monday morning clinic duty knowing that he would blow it off just to play mind games with her. With all of this in consideration, House will limp into work around 10am at the earliest but between 11 and noon is much more likely. 

As he predicted, he sees Foreman, Chase and Thirteen chatting in the Diagnostics office, and passes Taub on his way to clinic duty around 8:30. Taub gets a bad rap from House, but Wilson respects his willingness to take less than desirable time slots for clinic duty to keep him out of trouble. House is not shockingly in yet, and he smiles to himself as he looks forward to an uninterrupted morning.

Wilson puts on a music streaming station that plays 80s hits in the background as he settles in to do his paperwork. He loves working in the mornings by himself, he’s at his best and he’s able to fly through paperwork when he feels great. He’ll use the excuse of doing late night paperwork on occasion, but that is always under the preface of sticking around to babysit House when he has a case were his already grey morals are in danger of sliding to black. 

With his mandatory paperwork completed he beings his plan to get Cuddy to approve his drug trial review request. He asked one of the cute secretaries in HR to give him the proposed schedule in Oncology for the next few months, as well as the budget and all known leave requests as well as ideas for potential hires. It took a few “free” cups of coffee and scones from Wilson to have her wrapped around his fingers feeling proud of his ability to navigate office politics with ease. It will take him a few mornings this week to come up with a staffing proposal to present to Cuddy by Friday, but he’ll manage.

At 11:45, his office door swings open as House invites himself in. “So, how did the rest of your date go on Friday night? Scare her off with your random antics?” House looms over his desk and picks up one of the random knick-knacks that had been gifted to him by patients.

Wilson flips through his current patient files to check on his Oncology rounds for tomorrow without looking up to address House. He’s got his usual Monday afternoon Clinic duty and some lab work to set up for overnight analysis.

“You think you can just ignore me, and I’ll go away? Come on Wilson. You can start to rekindle our relationship by buying me lunch.” House is smirking as he looks down at Wilson. Finally forced to respond he makes his standard exasperated sigh as he closes the files and neatly stacks them on his desk. 

“Okay, House, I get it, I abandoned you in your time of need to meet your spontaneous Friday night plans when I had actual plans that didn’t include you. Forgive me for not checking with your Mom about your playdate schedule.” With that statement, Wilson stands up and motions to the door. “Lunch?” he phrases it as a question, but House knows it is an implicit invite to join Wilson in the cafe.

“I thought you’d never ask!” House lays on the melodramatic tone and the two of them exit his office as they head to the café. After paying for his salad, yogurt, fries and sandwich as well as House’s burger, they settle down at one of the booths on the side. Obviously, half of the fries will go to House. Wilson wonders if this has allowed him to indulge in fries over the years without suffering the full negative consequences of their deep-fried goodness.

“So, how the rest of your date go?” House is back to interrogating Wilson about the date. Wilson replies while waving a fry in his left hand at House. “Well after your appearance, it ended. We waited for you to pass and I made my way back to the garage. Thanks for the extra drama House, it really set the tone.” Wilson tries his best to keep House off his scent by sounding bitchier than normal. House likes it when he’s bitchy, he smugly gloats to himself, it has confirmed that his antics got to House will think he’s won Wilson’s full attentions again.

House’s bright blue eyes are wide open as he leans in slightly shocked making his “oops” I’m guilty-not guilty face before he takes a loud slurp from his fountain drink. “You are telling me nothing else happened? You seemed a little drunk when you ran off mocking my crippled state.”

Wilson now takes a sip of his drink to up the tension to only disappoint House. “Yep. I had to slowly walk to my car and sober up in the car before I could head home. Nothing else to report.” And with that he has signaled to House to give up and move on. Thankfully, House becomes distracted by Cuddy giving some potential donors a tour in the background prompting him to shift his focus to critiquing her current outfit. He really thinks the deep purple shirt is showing off too much cleavage and the donors may not be able to pull themselves out of its depths!

Wilson acts as the counterbalance to all of House's crazy statements and with that, he excuses himself to clinic duty. Without Wilson’s watchful eye, House tries to steal a pack of M & Ms without the cashier noticing – but fails as Cuddy uses it as an excuse to introduce him to the donors with enough time to say hello, before she retreats with them blocking any further teenage antics from House. House mumbles to himself how much he hates Mondays and feels tired from the two back to back cases. 

* * *

The work week flies by with little effort. You are settling into a routine and feeling more comfortable with your job and co-workers. Keith seems comfortable with things and has been more snuggly on the couch after he slept on Wilson. You wonder if Keith can be a good judge of human character or if he’s just a sucker for a large comfy warm body. Though you wouldn’t mind snuggling up to that warm, comfy body and you let your mind wander what it would be like to cuddle with Wilson. He looks like a natural. A natural cuddler that is.

Friday evening your team from work goes out for drinks. It is your first time out with people from work and you end up at a pub close to the Princeton-Plainsboro Teaching Hospital. Everyone is enjoying their drinks when another group is seated next to your group. You catch snippets of their conversations but they are currently to your back so you can’t see them.

A woman declares, “I am so glad that we didn’t have a case this week. I don’t think I could have handled anymore overnighters so that House can go home and sleep while we worked our fucking asses off.” 

“Agreed.” A man concurs with her and second man chimes in “Yeah, I know this job isn’t easy, but this week was a welcome relief and I was home in time for dinner keeping me off the couch and in the bedroom.” 

“Oh, I don’t know, it wasn’t all that bad” a familiar Aussie accent chimes in. “We all know what we are getting in for with this job.”

You turn to look at your satchel slung over the back of your chair to check your phone and get a glimpse at the table to your back. Looking the cover of your eye, you see the back of a shorter man with a receding hairline directly behind you. Across from him is the hot Australian guy from speed dating, Robert, and he is flanked by a woman with impeccable eye make-up wearing a casual top and a black man who has next level personal grooming. The black man is wearing a perfectly fitted suit, lavender dress shirt and a medium purple tie, he’s got game.

The black man quickly replies, “Oh come on Chase, you are feeling good about things because you ran tests that helped determine the final diagnoses in both cases. That put you in ‘Daddy’s’ good books for the next few weeks you can get off easy.”

Chase scoffs at his reply, “It is hardly that Foreman. You know that because I’ve worked with House for the longest, that he’s always giving me more shit than the rest of you. He always pushes me about every aspect of my life while he only focuses on one aspect of the rest of your lives.” 

“Again, it had to do with your relationship with your “Daddy” and the two of you both developed this relationship. You could always just quit.” The woman now speaks and it seems that she is teaming up with Foreman to make it clear to Chase that he is the victim of his own decisions and by extension a decision also made by House. 

You can’t keep eavesdropping on their conversation as one of your teammates asks you about what your plans are for the weekend. Keeping it vague you mention visiting the art gallery and the play but leave out the whole date part. You aren’t comfortable enough with your co-workers to give such personal details yet. 

The only thing that you catch from the conversation from the doctors at the table next to you that draws your attention is when you hear Doctor Wilson mentioned. It is the man directly behind you, he’s asking if the rest of them thought that Wilson was in a fairly good mood despite the fact that House had declared himself ‘victorious’ and that Wilson was back on the ‘right’ path.

The woman then asks “Did this have to do with his whole a tie is not a tie thing the previous week? From what I could tell, he was worried about getting Cuddy’s approval for participation as a clinical trial reviewer due to staffing issues in Oncology.” 

Chase follows her statement further, “Oh yeah, that’s what I thought too. I saw him on my way out of the building coming from Cuddy’s office. He stopped in front of the main desk and then did one of his quick little victory dances before heading to the garage. I’m guessing he was able to convince Cuddy. I know House had mentioned Wilson’s concern in passing, but House is quickly bored by office politics if it doesn’t involve him directly.”

The group switches topics to the current weather, what their plans for the weekend are and some gentle and not so gentle snarks are exchanged between their group. You are able to focus on your own work group’s table and by time you leave to head home and feed Keith, the doctors from PPTH have already went their separate ways.

Keith welcomes you with an eager meow as you enter your apartment to feed him and eat some take out you picked up from the Indian place that was suggested by House. You watch the movie “Metropolitan” as you sit comfortably on the couch with some red lentil dal, sag paneer and some rice and garlic naan. Keith keeps you company on the chair before showering and going to bed. Tomorrow is your third date with Wilson, and you start to feel the anticipation building as you take longer than normal to fall asleep.

* * *

Saturday morning you wake up early enough to do grocery shopping and clean up a little. You can’t quite focus when lunchtime rolls around, so you make do with a quick grilled cheese sandwich, fruit and yogurt. You check the forecast for the rest of the day. It is already overcast, and the temperature is predicted to dip into the 30s by the late evening. You decide on a red and black plaid patterned wool skirt with simple black tights. You’ll wear the same boots as the first date and to keep it a bit fun, you put on your Joy Division, cat t-shirt from Threadless where instead of showing the plot of a pulsar and cover of the seminal Joy Division album Unknown Pleasures, it had overlapping cats as the spectra readout. To make it look a little dressier you wear a black blazer over it and then add an accent black scarf to cover the t-shirt if necessary. You pull out a light winter jacket and you spend the half hour before Wilson arrives fidgeting on your couch as you try to focus on some random TV program, but you are unable to follow what is happening.

You nervously jump and then are relieved when your phone rings at 2:50. Wilson is outside of your apartment building and you head down to meet him as you say goodbye to Keith, looking out one of the living room windows.

He’s again parked in front with the hazards flashing on his car and this time, he doesn’t fumble with the passenger door being locked. NPR is on softly in the background on the car stereo as you say hello. Wilson beams at you as he replies with a basic good afternoon, as he smirks and looks back to check if traffic is clear. He turns on his left turn signal as he turns off the hazards and asks how your week was. 

You use this time to look at his outfit while he’s focusing on driving as it gives more time to stare without _really_ staring. He’s not surprisingly wearing a suit and tie under a medium grey long coat open with a red scarf loosely hanging around his neck. This time he is wearing a navy-blue suit, a soft blue shirt and a red, silver and navy-blue tie. The look is finished with simple black shoes. His hair looks more flowy than normal as when he glances at you during your conversation. The hair sways a little when he moves his head and it seems both less styled and more styled. The ride over to the gallery is uneventful, he points out additional useful landmarks and finds street parking near the gallery. 

Before exiting the parked car, he ties the scarf by making a loose loop while keeping his overcoat open. A cool breeze catches you off guard as you open the passenger side door and you step up onto the sidewalk. Immediately, he’s right behind you with his right arm gently and tentatively making contact with your upper back as you walk quickly to the gallery entrance. His tall figure blocks a lot of the wind from behind and you blush as you try to look forward not letting him see your full reaction. 

Upon entering the gallery, you stop by the coat check to drop off your coats and you proceed to the ticket desk. Not surprisingly, Wilson complements you on your outfit. “Very fitting for an art gallery. Just different enough to be dressy and feminine but casual with the cat – cat lines shirt. The scarf is a nice accent.” He clearly doesn’t get the reference with the cats, so you just thank him and in turn compliment him for another color balanced ensemble with another cool stripy tie.

Wilson flashes a membership card as he uses his customer service skills as he approaches the ticket counter. “Good afternoon. How are you? Temperature is really dropping fast with that wind today. One member and a guest please.” The cashier enters his membership information while replying to each of his questions and comments as expected. And with that the two of you are handed tickets for general entrance and you proceed to the entrance of the exhibits.

Wilson stops by the current exhibit display to see where the specific show he was telling you about is located. The gallery isn’t too busy despite the worsening weather. Likely most people have either decided against heading out or have already went home. As a result, it is relatively empty so you can take your time looking at the artwork. You immediately feel satisfied with the comic art exhibit, this is something that you always like to see. Not that you are opposed to more typical or expected art, but you have a soft spot for modern pop art. There are a few Junko Mizuno pieces making you smile but you are impressed by a large piece by a local Jersey artist. It is a huge print that depicts generic Marvel/DC style superheroes in tight outfits with boots, capes and masks. What makes is more interesting is that when you get very close to the 20 by 12 foot print, it that it is made up of a mosaic of photos of regular “heroes”. Each square of the mosaic is a portrait of; doctors, teachers, fire fighters etc. Normal people that have been arranged to make these large comic book style characters. 

You turn to see Wilson walking over to you from looking at the Junko Mizuno artwork on the perpendicular wall, he looks confused. “Hey.” You wave your hand gesturing him to come to where you are standing next to the print. His look of confusion fades, as you think that the Mizuno artwork might have been a little bit on the odd side for him, and he now stands to your left. 

“Check this out, this superhero print is actually a mosaic of individual portraits of normal people. Neat, huh?” To lean in closer, he’s positioned himself a bit behind you now and his face is just over your left shoulder as he leans in and squints to see the tiny portraits. You can feel his right hand gently lay on our right shoulder and his chest slightly brushes up against your back. A soft heat radiates from your cheeks as you feel your temperature increase with him so close. As he looks over the images in the print, he speaks softly. “What do you know, it is a bunch of little personal portraits. That is neat.” Only after finishing his statement does he turn his face towards yourself and his dark brown eyes have an intention and intensity to them which you haven’t seen before. His eyes stare directly back at you as you know your face is becoming even more flushed than it was before. 

Instead, of addressing your clear state of embarrassment, he turns to look back at the pictures. He moves to the right, and in doing so bumps into your lower back and bum before moving to your right to keep looking at the print. You try to ignore things by focusing straight in front of you and you get a whiff of a musky and cinnamon scented cologne. It is heavier than the one he was wearing last weekend and you nervously pull a strand of hair around your left ear to break the tension. Before, it gets even more intense you heard the sound of footsteps echo as they enter the room that you are in. A few women in aggressive sounding heels have entered the room chatting with each other. You turn to look over your left shoulder at them as Wilson slips away towards your right and his left hand just barely ghosts along your waist as he continues to examine all of the mini portraits. You look back at the women as they continue to chatter and discuss various pictures and you look back to Wilson making his way along the print. He notices you looking and raises his left eyebrow at you while smirking before turning back to the print.

“Hey! Look at this. Some of the staff from PPTH are shown in this corner.” Wilson seems excited as he gestures for you to look at one part. There are a few doctors in their white coats smiling for their work portraits. You immediately recognize some of them from the pub last night. Wilson points at each one with his left index finger as he names them “Foreman, Cameron, Chase (who you saw at speed dating), Taub and Thirteen er - Hadley. These are either current or previous fellows who worked in the Diagnostics Department with House.” He’s smiling as he looks at them and looks back towards the chatty women make their way over to the artwork. He leans in so that when he speaks his breath just brushes by your right ear “It is feeling a little crowded in here, shall we move to the next room?” 

You nod in agreement as you try not to look too smitten with Wilson, but the women really don’t seem to notice anything. One pulls out a printed guide and begins to read from it verbatim as the two of you slip into the final room of the exhibit. In one corner there is a film in a small dark room with a bench in the middle. The two of you sit down on the bench and he slides over so that his left thigh is flush with your right, but he makes no other move. He reminds you of when you first adopted Keith. He would test your tolerance for physical contact by first sitting next to you, then allowing a paw or his tail to lay over you. Keith knew you had accepted him when he could press his body up against you or sit on your lap. 

Admittedly, the short-animated film did not make a whole lot of sense to you, it was a mix of Pokemon-like creatures, which appeared to work at a type of strip club as random sound bites from celebrities was layered over what sounded like elevator music. After watching the entire 7 minute film you noticed Wilson absentmindedly scratching the back of head while you cocked your head trying to understand what you were supposed think/feel/react to. You finally turn to Wilson.

“Well that was. . . “, you are unable to continue your sentence. Wilson then replies, “Ah yeah that was, um well.”

And at the same time the two of you say at the same time “Terrible!” And with that both of you stop trying to look like you understood this art, and both break out in laughter as you are grinning like idiots. You catch your breath as you finally gently tap his left thigh with your right hand. “Okay, now that we got that out of the way, shall we move onto look at some of the other exhibits before we need to head to dinner.”

Wilson softly smiles in the dark room as the film has begun to reply itself for the fifty-first time today and he pulls back his sleeves to look at his watch. “It’s just past four, so we’ve got a half hour before we need to head to dinner.” He then stands up and offers his left hand to you. Feeling more confident, you accept his hand and he pulls you up gently. 

The two of you wander through some of the permanent exhibitions. He spends the most of his time in the impressionist room. He clearly likes the Monets and mentions in passing that he likes any of the water lily-centric pieces. Wilson then pauses before he continues, “There is something to be said for artwork that has greater mass appeal like Monet’s water lilies. Painting about themes and content that many people enjoy shows the universal appeal even if it wasn’t the most popular at the time. It stands today as something that emotionally moves many people.” His statement has a poetic air to it as he then mentions that you should return to the coat check. 

He’s clearly saying that just because something is liked or enjoyed by a lot of people, it doesn’t lose its emotional value just because it is well liked or popular. If anything, some things are liked because it is hard for people to not like them. Perhaps, this is how he’s explaining his lack of a “unique” identity or opinion. Your thoughts are then interrupted as you have to hand over the coat check tag and the clerk hands back over your coat as Wilson is also putting on his coat and scarf; this time he decides to button up his coat. The two of you exit the art gallery as an icy cold blast of wind hits you. Both of you gasp and you feel him right behind you with his left hand on your shoulder as he both acts as a wind block and gently leads you back towards his parked car.

Both of you hop in as he quickly turns of the engine and also turns on the heater. What is more impressive is that he turns on the heated seats. Wilson makes it very clear to you that his heated seats are a great feature of his car and you for once can agree with it as your bum begins to feel pleasantly warm as he drives to your dinner destination. 

Wilson pulls into a public parking garage. As he turns the car off, he speaks, “Sorry, I chose the White Lion because it is a five-minute walk to the theatre on the university campus. I hope that is okay with you in this winter-ish weather.” You are surprised at how concerned he is. You smile and gently touch his right arm with your left as you look at him. “You seem to forget that I lived in the Great Lakes for most of my life. I’ll be fine. It always takes cold weather to remind you that you are alive.” Wilson’s face beams as he seems relieved that it isn’t a big deal for you. The two of you exit the car and head to the street below to walk to the White Lion.

As you enter the main foyer is packed with people waiting to be seated. The crappy weather may have kept people from other places, but it looks like everyone was thinking the same thing for dinner or drinks. Wilson politely works his way to the hostess and tells them he has a reservation for two. Sure enough, she confirms the reservation and that the table will be ready in a moment. You notice you are surrounded by predominately couples. Most are standing close to each other or physically touching. Wilson has made his way back to you, where you are standing in a corner and manages to also fit himself next to you in the corner despite his height. 

“She said it would be a minute or two. I’m glad I called ahead.” Wilson looks relieved as his eyes dart to how crowded the place it. “I’ve never seen it this busy, but then again, I end up here on weekdays more than weekends.” You nod as you feel his presence firmly behind you but only his left hand barely touching your shoulder. 

“Table for two, Wilson!” both of you turn to the hostess as she calls your table. Wilson gestures for you to go ahead and he politely excuses the both of you as you make your way to the hostess. You notice the jealous look from others as they give an annoyed look to their partner for not making a reservation. It is clear that whoever in the couple was getting “the look” was the person who made the suggestion to come here tonight. . . . the looks from the others make you feel a little special. You’ve never had someone be this thoughtful, organized and considerate in a long time.

As you are seated in a nice tucked away corner, you are both able to order a pint and a water. You get a basic IPA while Wilson goes with a wheat beer. The two of you are able to make a toast with a simple “Cheers!” and you look at him as his eyes are smiling in the somewhat dim light of the tavern. You comment on Wilson’s good call about the reservation and you mention that there seemed to be some low-level jealousy from others in the foyer. He agrees with you, he hasn’t been out to a dinner like this for some time. He continues that there is something satisfying from watching other high income type A professionals all giving each other cutting looks. This statement shows that he is a competitive person under the polite demeanor and it also has an undercurrent that he doesn’t tolerate a certain type of professional well. . . since he does seem to think that general good manners are important, you think he likely has issues with rude and overconfident people who act above their abilities. You briefly think about his best friend House as meeting those criteria; you then realize that House may be rude, but his confidence isn’t overconfidence, it is realistic.

The two of you share some spinach and artichoke dip as an appetizer and you have to choose a main still. Since this is an upscale tavern you see your pub fare standards as well as some pretentious items. Not trying to make life complicated as those specialty items are hit and miss you settle on the fish and chips while Wilson selects the pot pie. 

Over dinner he asks you what you thought of the art exhibit. You are honest as you tell him you really enjoyed it, save for the obviously odd film. He smiles sweetly at your film comment. He asks you why you like art like that? You then give him your background growing up on comics and manga and how you like how it has become more mainstream. It always seems fresh and fun and if you are lucky you can afford some artwork that is similar even when you don’t have a lot of money. He listens carefully as you speak and nods and smiles at all the right times. It definitely makes you feel special. The conversation is still basic, but this time it feels more natural. You in turn are able to ask him what type of artwork he likes. You point out how he really liked the Monet and he takes a sip of his beer before answering.

“I’m not a huge art fan, but I really like impressionism and the group of seven artists. I was exposed to the group of seven when I did my undergrad at McGill in an art history class. They always stuck with me.” He seems a bit hesitant since it is clear art is not something, he is 100% comfortable with. 

You try to give him your most reassuring smile. “Group of seven? I love the group of seven! I always liked seeing all their artwork at the AGO. I think the fact that you have a membership to the gallery even though you aren’t completely comfortable with all art speaks volumes. It shows that you are willing to see things that challenge yourself and make yourself uncomfortable and that you aren’t turned away. It would be weird if someone loved ALL art and knew everything about it.”

He seems pleasantly surprised at your frank response and his eyebrows soften as he gazes at you. “So, what is your background that a molecular biologist has such strong opinions on art as you do?”

You reply that you minored in art history in addition to earning a B.Sc. in biology. Furthermore, you are interested in what type of art, he enjoys and as long as it isn’t Rococo. You do have standards and the line is crossed at Rococo. He smiles in response to your answer and replies that he’ll make a note to not invite you to any Rococo exhibits.

The two of you pause your conversation as you finish dinner and your beers. Wilson has grabbed the check before you can even react; you excuse yourself to the restroom while he settles the check. Of course, when the server returns with his copy, he signs the merchant copy and then completes the customer copy and neatly folds it placing it in his wallet along with his card. He excuses himself to the restroom as well and agrees to meet you in the foyer. 

The entryway is still full of people waiting, though now it seems to be less couples and more groups of friends. You fidget as you wait and zip up your coat, preparing yourself for a blast of cold air. You catch Wilson’s hair over the mess of people as he makes his way to the foyer and he waves at you and then nods upon approaching you. “Ready?” he asks and you reply “Let the challenge begin!” and with that he pushes the door open allowing you to exit before him.

The icy cold wind hits both of you at the same time as you simultaneously gasp at the same time. You pull the hood up on your jacket as you watch him pop his coat collar up and pull his scarf up to cover his ears and neck.

The two of you quickly make your way to the theatre on the university campus. Both of you are flushed when you enter the lobby and you both stand there for a minute or two while you thaw out before heading to the coat check. Wilson gently guides you towards the entrance to the theatre and he shows the tickets to the usher. The undergraduate student usher looks bored as he looks at the tickets as he gives the directions to your seats in a monotone and then hands two programs to you. 

The tickets are up in the balcony along the railing, so you won’t have to worry about trying to look around any tall person’s head. While you wait for the performance to start, you pick up the conversation from dinner. “What did you do when you were an undergrad that was unrelated to becoming a doctor?” 

Wilson replies with enthusiasm and a twinge of shyness. “I did two things besides work my ass off to earn a 3.95 GPA. First off, I did a little acting on the side. I wasn’t very good, but I contributed to a friend’s fourth year art project. Unfortunately, I still live in fear that House will uncover evidence of this, and that I will be publicly humiliated by it. Please, think of it as a folly of youth. I also, and please don’t laugh, participated in a swing dancing club. It was off campus and not associated with the university so as far as I know, there is little photographic evidence or a paper trail. The only thing people have picked up on at PPTH is that when we do have dances, I’m comfortable, but I try not to draw that much attention to myself.”

It seems totally adorable you think to yourself as you listen to him explain hobbies and interests that he had before his career in medicine became all consuming. You are able to reply that you think both of those things sound neat and that there is nothing embarrassing about swing dancing, you wink as you state it could be worse, he could have been in the ballroom dancing club and he breaks into a huge grin. At that point the house lights flash indicating the performance is about to start and the two of you turn your attention to the production.

It is a standard university theatre production, a few of the actors were hired to perform along the student participants and even when they fall short, the student’s energy is enough to carry them through the first half. You are able to steal glances at Wilson as he watches the play; he has the look of a schoolboy as he is completely drawn into the performances and is likely remembering what it felt like to do similar things. 

The intermission gives both of you a chance to stand up and you head to the restroom. While walking around you finally have time to take a look at the audience. It is a mix of students likely supporting their friends or attending for a course credit, and a large number of people from the local community, again clearly professionals. Most of the women your age and older are dressed more conservatively and a lot of the men are wearing suits and ties. You own personal choice of professional/casual catches a few people’s eyes and you can’t tell if they like your style or find it a bit too casual. 

When you return to your seat you already find Wilson there, carefully reading the program. He radiates a type of energy, that indicates he really is enjoying this. “What do you think of the performance so far?” your question draws his attention away from the program. He is just brimming with excitement as he replies, “Oh this is great, it really reminds me of when I was a student like this. I also noticed that several of the student performers are pre-med and they are also doing undergraduate research. I’m really enjoying this even more than I thought.”

He then asks you what you think about things. You reply that it is what you expected, and it was a good idea for a Saturday night date. Your reply somehow gives him even more energy and he just can’t stop smiling. He then places his right hand on your left on the chair armrest. He glances at his hand on yours before looking back towards your eyes. “Thank you for coming with me.” And with that he gives your hand a little squeeze. 

You turn your gaze away from him to stare at his shoes for a second before you turn back to him and reply. “Thanks for inviting me.” With that the two of you are just sitting silently with his hand on yours and the house lights flash, letting people return to their seats for the second half of the production. 

Both of you turn your attention back to the performance, and now you catch him also stealing a glance at you from time to time until both of you turn to each other holding the other’s gaze. Neither of you says or does anything else, so you then turn your attention back to the play. He keeps his right hand on yours the entire time as his fingers slowly caress yours. By the end of the play, he’s managed to interlace your fingers in between his and make it feel completely natural. 

It feels so forward, yet also chaste as a move in the game of dating and relationships. What you can tell is that Doctor James Wilson is a romantic. You’ve never dated a _real_ romantic like this; it goes against your basic instincts, but you like it. When the curtain falls and the audience begins its applause, he finally releases your hand to stand and applaud as well. Overall, it was a good performance and you join him in commending the actors, stage crew and all of those involved. With that the two of you make your way back down to the lobby. Wilson taps you on your shoulder once you reach the main floor, he needs to use the restroom and hands over the coat check tag to you and he asks if you could pick his coat and scarf for him. You accept the tag and head to the queue.

You put your coat on and then step to the side with his coat and scarf in your hands. All of a sudden, a co-worker passes you by with his partner. It is Dr. Zhou, one of the postdocs from the maize team and he has a woman with him. Just at that moment, Wilson has walked up to you and then turns to notice Zhou and the woman with him. Wilson, being well, Wilson, immediately turns on his public image smile. “Nurse Diaz, Dr. Zhou.” He nods to both of them before continuing, “Nice to see you this evening. This is my date,” and he turns to introduce you to the couple. “Did you enjoy the performance? I found it endearing.” 

Both of them smile back, both a little hesitant for a second before, they settle in. Diaz speaks first, “Yes, Dr. Wilson, I found it quite enjoyable.” She smiles politely and nudges her partner, Zhou to say something. “Ah likewise. It was nice. Though, I already happen to know your date here.” As he makes it clear that he is being as professional as possible as he addresses you by your full title of Doctor and only your last name. Even though this is a completely innocent dating situation, you can’t help but feel a little awkward running into someone from work, and then you recall that Zhou was the one who warned you about how some of the doctors at PPTH were a little odd. This nurse Diaz, must be his connection to hospital gossip.

Wilson turns to you a little surprised and quickly recovers. “Oh yes, that’s right, you work in the Agricultural R & D division where she just started working. Well, I’m sure you can figure out that Diaz here is a nurse at Princeton-Plainsboro, she works in the ER.” And with that Wilson shows hints of his skills of social manipulation. He begins to put on his coat and scarf as he puts on the small talk friendly smile and you can tell that 99% of the population wouldn’t even pick up on how ‘fake’ this smile is. “Well, it was nice to bump into you here, but we have plans to grab a quick drink next. I’m sure you have to head home soon to relieve the babysitter before it is too late.” With that he’s firmly shaking Zhou’s hand and gives Diaz a chaste tap on the shoulder as, you jump in with a “Nice to see you. Enjoy the rest of your evening” as he’s already ushering you towards the exit. Both of you are bundling up ready to enter the cold and head back to the parking garage.

As you both walk briskly back to the garage, Wilson speaks “Sorry about that excuse about the drink, I needed to get out of there as fast as possible. Diaz is an excellent nurse, but she is the nexus of the gossip network. In the past I may have spent too many dates with members of the nursing staff, I’ve moved on from them, but my reputation stands long after things are over.” He seems a bit reluctant to say these things, but you can tell from his body language that he’s being honest. It is clear that he’s clearly dated among the nursing staff, he’s not ashamed by it, he just admits it. Instead of thinking that makes him a playboy, you think it makes him a little shy, afraid to put himself outside of his easy to reach social circle.

From personal experience, you know that dating within the workplace has both pluses and minuses. The pluses include; easy to meet people, same commute, lack of the need to formally impress the other. The minuses are; break ups can be messy and public, if you start to work your way through a research group or floor, you will gain a reputation. The two of you have reached his car in the garage and are now on either side of the doors.

You speak to reassure him, “I get it. I’ve done similar things in the past as well. Dating in the workplace and both be good and bad. That’s why I tried to get outside of my professional circle here. So, don’t worry about that.”

Wilson looks back at you across the hood of the car. He smiles with a look of thanks and as soon as the doors unlock, both of you have practically thrown yourself into the car as he turns on the heat and the posh heated seats. For the ride back to your place Wilson doesn’t say much. He looks like he’s concentrating on something and you figure he’ll say or do whatever he is thinking so deeply about when he’s ready. 

Instead of just pulling over and allowing you to hop out of his car, he parks it on the street close to your place. He smiles as he turns the car off and asks if it is okay for him to walk you up to your door. And with that, you melt on the inside. God, he’s so sweet. 

You smile as you reply that you would like that very much. It is still windy, but you feel like you are floating on clouds as you make your way to your apartment entrance. Wilson hops just in front of you to open the main door into the entryway with the mailboxes. “After you Miss.” And he smiles at you with that look in his eyes that you can feel elsewhere in your body. You unlock the door to enter the corridor and you walk up the stairs to your second-floor apartment. 

Just as you reach your door, you turn and lean back into the door as Wilson stands before you. “I want to thank you for the lovely date. I enjoyed the art exhibition; dinner was pleasant, and the play was fun and positive.” You look up at him as you wait to see his response. He steps closer as he gently goes to embrace you in his arms, and you can smell the musk-cinnamon scent of his cologne again as it tickles your noise. He gazes down at you with dark brown eyes now showing lust and seriousness. 

“I’m glad you had a pleasant time. Thank you for the enjoyable time as well.” And with that he leans in to kiss you on the lips and your eyes flutter shut. The kiss is very innocent for what you would expect from him. You feel his soft lips and he begins to tilt his head to the side as right hand slides down to wrap around your waist. As his hand moves to pull you waist in closer, you gasp ever so slightly in surprise and you wrap your arms around his torso in response to his pull. The gasp was the opening he was looking for and he deepens this kiss as his tongue slowly works its way into your mouth. 

Encouraged by his kiss, you respond back as you lean into your toes so that your tongue slides along his front teeth. A deep hum comes from his throat in response and the two of you continue to kiss as this languid pace, not rushing anything. Finally, having lost track of time, he pulls away and both of you open your eyes. He looks down on you, cheeks flushed, and his lips are wet with saliva and you know he can see the same thing on you. It feels as though both of you are in a fog as you stand there. Your brain is sluggish trying to catch up; do you invite him in? Do you want to have sex with him tonight? Is that the right thing to do? Are you moving too fast?

As these thoughts drift around in your hormone addled brain, he brings his left hand to your face to stoke is as he silently looks at you with so much passion in his eyes. His state of “pause” implies that this is 100% in your control. Just as you start to form a reply you hear a “mew!” that brightly carries though the door into the hallway.

Keith heard you at the door and he’s now meowing impatiently at it for you to open it and come in to brush and feed him. Both of you are broken from the trance of the fog from that one really damn good kiss by the demanding cry of your moggie. 

“And that would be Keith; excellent timing as expected for a feline.” Wilson says this with a twinge of disappointment as well as relief. His expression lets you know that he wasn’t quite sure what he wanted to do tonight. 

“Yes, Keith will now insist on his nightly brushing, kitty treats and his last bit of kibble.” You reply as Wilson steps back to allow you to open your satchel to remove your keys to open the door. 

As you open the door, Keith steps out and Wilson kneels down to pet him. “Good evening, Keith. It looks like your ‘Mom’ has to take care of you. I’ll let her get to that.” He gives Keith a good scratch under the chin as he purrs loudly. As Wilson stands up, Keith rubs his legs once before heading into the apartment towards where his brush is. You then reach out to hug Wilson as you thank him one last time for the excellent date. Next, time you explain that you will pick the date activities so he can relax. It is hard to release the hug, but Keith is meowing insistently, and Wilson settles for a quick peck on your cheek as he finally pulls away and waves goodbye as you enter your place.

As the door shuts behind you, you collapse as you slide down the door to sit on your doormat. Keith runs up to you pawing and mewing at you. You take a few deep breaths before you remove your boots off and hang up your coat. You shift to autopilot; you brush Keith in a daze and continue with your night routine. Before you know it, you are in bed, Keith is snuggling up to you and your brain has slowed down enough to think about Wilson and the kiss. If that was how Wilson kisses you can’t imagine what he’ll be like in bed. It does confirm your gut feeling that it will likely be amazing. And with that you stare at the ceiling until the butterflies in your stomach settle down and you can hear the soft in and out of Keith’s tiny cat breaths as you drift off to sleep.


	4. swept off your feet, well almost

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ah, it is time for the awaited fourth date with Wilson. This time you get to pick something which he is interested in and enjoys. More cat and mouse games between House and Wilson and Chase pops up for good measure. I like Chase's conditional/situational apathy as a character, it makes him fun to write for. Lastly, but most importantly, an excuse to level up Wilson's fashion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize in advance for my [extreme] over simplification of the basics of swing dancing. I spent more time than I would like to admit digging around the internet for how dance instructors make their introduction to swing dancing classes as well as the class format (e.g. rotating partners, positive attitude etc). I personally have a decent knowledge of many of the famous artists from the time, but my only insight into dancing with a partner can be back when I was a kid dancing the polka with my Grandma or a high school prom experience of swaying (seriously). 
> 
> If you would like an example of "Wilson" swing dancing, specifically, the Lindy Hop, please watch "Swing Kids" or at least the trailer for the movie. The movie is a total downer though, 1939 - Germany, you can see where I'm going with this. But RSL is amazing in the movie. 
> 
> If you like seeing him dance, I would also highly suggest also watching "The Last Days of Disco"; his character is a bit of a judgemental bitch, but the dance scene in his basement apartment with CS before their one night stand is hot. Trust me.

Wilson walks as quickly as possible towards his parked car. His heart rate is racing and the blast of the icy cold air hits him as he exits the building. He’s already unlocked the car doors before he’s even crossed the street as he hops in, turns on the engine immediately. His rapid breath is visible inside the car, as he doesn’t even give the engine time to heat up the interior as he pulls out into the street and towards his condo as his breath hangs in the air of the car.

His mind is a tizzy, more exactly, his body, mind and heart all have differing opinions on what just happened. Wilson is both a feeler and a thinker and comfortable with balancing out his rational thoughts as well as accepting his emotions. The entire car ride home will pit them all against each other. His heart is relieved, he didn’t do anything rash or regrettable allowing for him to think about a possible longer-term relationship. This is good his heart says! However, his body is in complete opposition to his heart. He was that close to having sex! She was putty in your hands and if that was how she responded to his kiss than imagine her in bed. Her response was more than enough information for his body to know that he could please her for sure. His mind tries to rationalize both; yes, the heart is correct – slow and steady is his strength; but the body is right – he’s gone far too long and he needs to meet his own sexual needs and he’d be able to blow her mind. If the sex was _that_ good, she’d be up for more. That still leads to the goal to a longer-term relationship. Wilson interrupts his internal debate by shaking his head and then ruffling his hair at a stoplight. All he can conclude from all of this is that he’s still got his mojo and that if he wants to, he knows that he’ll be able to seal the deal on the next date.

He pulls his car into his spot at the condo and quickly walks towards the entrance. Next date? How do I figure out the next date? He can’t think as clearly as usual and in an uncharacteristic fury, he tosses the keys in the bowl, rips off the jacket and scarf leaving them on the table while he aggressively toes out of his shoes leaving them in the entryway. He only takes the time to hang up the suit and pants, but just throws his wallet, phone, tie, and dress shirt on his bed as he moves into the bathroom. After turning on the shower, he finally removes the socks and his underwear and jumps into the shower as he’s barely able to contain himself. The warmth of the hot shower water envelops him and he’s able to find the relief he’s been seeking. 

Wilson now has the time to slow down and think clearly in the shower as he begins is usual routine. He squirts some shea butter body wash on a loofah and washes all of the sweat and hormones off of himself. As he feels all of the tension leaving his body, he turns to wash and condition his hair which he does care about a lot. His hair is one of his best features besides his deep brown eyes and his height. He likes to use the gender-neutral Aveda shampoo and conditioner that help with his thick hair and moisturize as well with his daily blow drying; he’d never openly admit these aspects of his haircare routine, but it has a proven track record of success with the ladies. As the conditioner sits for a few minutes, he exfoliates with a gentle cleanser, and then washes the conditioner out. It is then that he figures out the fourth date, with the best chance for sex – it is time to have her pick the date activities. And with that, he is able to relax as his next step has been decided. 

Wilson turns off the shower and steps out onto his thick medium grey fluffy bathmat outside of the tub. He then wraps a medium grey towel around his waist while he uses another to dry off his upper body and remove a fair bit of moisture from his hair. He walks back into his bedroom noticing the cold floor and slides into his slippers and grabs his flannel pants and pulls a long sleeve lounge shirt out of his dresser. The cooler air sends him back into the bathroom to moisturize his entire body before putting the warmer pajamas on. He does a quick blow dry of his hair but doesn’t bother to style it well, he’s going to sleep anyways soon. Finally, he brushes his teeth, flosses and moisturizes with a night cream for his face. With his routine finished, he returns to his bedroom to toss the dress shirt in the dirty clothes hamper, hang the tie up with the rest of his neatly organized ties in the closet. He shuffles to the kitchen with his phone and plugs it into the charger while setting it to ‘night’ mode and puts his wallet in the bowl with his keys. And with that he returns to his bedroom, pulls up the covers and snuggles under his duvet as he reaches his arm to turn off his lamp on his nightstand. 

* * *

As usual, your alarm clock is fully functional and wakes you up at 6:50 am with meows that are a cross between chipper and demanding. You pull yourself upright and swing your feet over the side of your bed, slippers ready and waiting. After feeding Keith, you shuffle back to bed and snuggle back into the warm covers. Usually, you can go back to sleep for a bit before getting up yourself, but this time you are restless as you begin to think about your date from yesterday. More specifically, you start to remember kissing him and your mind can’t decide if you did the right thing. You hesitated – will he think you are too shy? Conservative? Nervous? “AARRGGGGHHHH!!!” you groan as you pull one of your pillows over your face. You lay there for a minute before a bright mew announces Keith’s presence and he leaps up onto the bed and begins to paw at your legs. You remove the pillow to look up and see him touching you with a single paw as he freezes staring directly at you. 

“I’m okay Keith. I don’t know if I should thank you or scold you. Your timing last night was incredible.” Keith only makes a quick berrrt noise as he walks up to your face and rubs your head with his. You then sit up in bed and look at the clock. 7:45 am. On a Sunday. Oh well, you think, not like I’ll be able to sleep in after last night. 

The temperature has cooled off a fair bit, it looks like you’ll need to figure out how to set the thermostat in this new place, but it is on the cold side for you. You grab one of many hoodies off the back of your bedroom door and head to the bathroom and then into the kitchen to make coffee and some breakfast quinoa. With a hot coffee in hand and a bowl of almond milk cooked quinoa topped with pecans, shredded coconut and a drizzle of maple syrup you head to the couch. You place the coffee on the coffee table and turn on the TV to watch the few local over the air stations you can get. You pull a crocheted afghan over yourself and within mere minutes, Keith has snuggled up next to you, using you as a human heat source. 

As the coffee kicks in, you try not to over think the events of last night. The date was good. Wilson is a romantic and him stopping was clearly an indication that he’s not one to force anything on anyone. You could have had him, but you were oddly feeling nervous. It has been longer than you’d like to admit since you’ve last had sex. And as silly as it sounds, the longer it has been since you last did, the more of a big deal it has become in your head. Wilson doesn’t look like the kind of guy who would have large gaps between sex and relationships, yet he hesitated as well. Maybe the fact he’s a medical doctor means he wants to have the STI talk before having sex. Neither of you are horny teenagers, instead you are both well-established horny professionals! 

Based on where things ended, you think the expectation of sex on the fourth date is a strong possibility. Based on the fact that you need to feed Keith in the evening, it would be better to have him stay over here. He asked if it was okay to walk you to your place last night. An invite up should be straightforward. It should also be relaxed and low key, so there isn’t any pressure on either of you. Maybe you should start to look into some date activities for this next one? He put a lot of thought into the date yesterday, you should find something he’d enjoy.

You get up to grab your laptop and turn off the TV and turn on the local indie station. As you start to look for various activities in the local paper online, the radio program changes from soft indie rock to an “all vinyl” format show. The dj then states that he’s going through some of the most classic albums he borrowed from his grandparents’ collection. As the needle drops, the first few notes of Glenn Miller’s “In the mood” play over your stereo. That’s it! You can already smell victory; you’ll find someplace with swing dancing lessons and work off of that. With the power of google you are able to find a local community center that has themed dance nights and free lessons included beforehand if you need an intro. The dance lessons scare the hell out of you, but why not? At least your dance partner can give you a few pointers. 

As the Glenn Miller song ends you are certain you’ve got a great idea. You just need to decide if you should try to surprise him or give him a warning – he is a much more organized person when it comes to his wardrobe. In the background you hear the ‘Pennsylvania Polka’ on next and you smile thanking the dj for the brilliant idea.

You scroll through the website for the full details for the swing dance lessons and dance. The lessons are from 3 to 5, and then there is a break for dinner from 5 to 7 provided at the community center. The dancing then starts at 7 and runs until 10. The website makes it clear that this is an all ages event and all of the proceeds go to a local charity each month. This month the donations go to the local cat rescue center. This is a total win-win. The event encourages period appropriate dress but does not require it and has a further statement that while it aims for a certain 1940s feel that all sexual orientations and gender identities are welcome. The only things are that there be no inappropriate language (all ages) and that drinks are available next door at a local bar (again all ages).

Feeling pretty good, you decide to text Wilson that you have an idea for the next date. As usual you agonize over the text for longer than necessary to say this;

_Hey, I had a really nice time last night. Since you have taken the lead on the first few dates, I was wondering if I could plan the next one? I have a really good idea!_

With that you send the text off into the ether. Wilson will certainly give you a call back sometime this morning.

* * *

The light of the morning sun begins to increase its intensity as it beams its power into Wilson’s bedroom. He rolls over trying to pull the cover over his head to see if he can get a few more minutes of sleep. Sleeping in is a sort of unattainable dream for him, even on the weekend. No matter what, when he’s single, he’s always up early in the morning. 

Rolling over to check the clock on the nightstand, it reads 7:30. Not bad he thinks and rouses himself from the warm cocoon of his duvet, sliding into his slippers and grabbing a medium grey crew neck sweatshirt and pulls it over his long sleeve shirt. As usual he puts on an entire pot of coffee and decides to make some oatmeal with the cold weather outside. 

He begins to plan his day, yesterday he was able to pick up items at the Farmer’s market before his date. There are just a few items to shop for at the regular grocery store and he starts to plan out his meal plans for the week, with extras as House will likely steal half of his food he brings into work. At least House will eat healthier than usual. With himself in a good place dating wise, he needs to step up his plan to prevent House interference. House would agree that a good defense is a good offense. It is time to go on the offensive this week, he’ll have to plan one or two evenings with House to keep “the love” alive between the two of them.

Swinging by House’s apartment for poker night and some Friday night take out and trashy TV should do the trick. He’ll talk to House tomorrow by lunch at the latest. 

A single ping breaks the silence of his kitchen. He got a text message, and he checks his phone. Wilson smiles as he reads it, he doesn’t even need next level planning here, she already wants to plan the next date. Interesting, he thinks. What could she be planning? And with that he decides to ring her back after he showers, dresses and is ready to head out to the grocery store and start prepping and cooking all afternoon with NHL games on in the background. 

* * *

Just before 9, your phone rings. You don’t need to even see the caller information; you already know it is Wilson. You are a little giddy but do your best to maintain a calm tone.

“Morning. I see you got my message.” You are fidgeting as you decide it is better to pace around your living room than try to sit.

“Good morning to you as well. Yes, I got your message and I think it is a great idea. What are you thinking of? You seem to indicate you are already planning something.” Wilson sounds almost sunny as he is interested.

“Yes. I was thinking about some things you mentioned last night. It is clear you put a lot of thought into choosing things that I am interested in last night. I’d like to return the favor.” 

Wilson takes a quick breath before he’s able to reply, he seems a little surprised. “Oh, really you don’t have to worry too much about me. I mean, I appreciate the thought though.” 

You can feel him blushing on the other side of the phone line and you are certain he’s ruffling his hair. You pause giving him a chance to say something else and after an awkward silence he speaks.

“Okay, you are right, I’m doing my thing where I worry too much about others. Sorry. What are you thinking?”

You aren’t sure if it should be a surprise or not. It would be adorable to see the delight in his face if you surprised him, but at the same time you get the feeling he’d want to be able to prepare a proper outfit and have the right shoes. So, you test the waters and ask his input, “I have an activity in mind for next Saturday. We’d need to be there for the start at 3, it has dinner and then it continues from 7 to 10. I’m just unsure of one thing, so I need you to let me know how you feel. Should I surprise you or not?” You then pause giving him a chance to reply.

“Surprise me? I guess it would depend on the surprise. Is it something that you think I’d want to prepare for? Or is it something that I can just do without having a plan?” Wilson seems intrigued.

Well his statement is clear to you – no surprise. “Thanks for giving me that response. Let’s go with the plan versus surprise. I’d like to take you to a swing dance event at the community center. They have lessons from 3 to 5, which I will definitely need, dinner is part of the package from 5 to 7 and then they have a formal dance from 7 to 10. What do you think?”

Wilson gasps in excitement over the phone as he makes joyful sounds before he can form coherent words. “Yes! Yes! Yes! Oooh, yes! I’d love to and – thanks for telling me, I need to dig through my closet to find out my shoes from college.”

You are relieved and pleased that he’s stoked about these plans and you are smiling to yourself. 

“I’m curious, which community center is it at?” Wilson is engaged and you guess he’s updating his calendar as you speak. You give him the information and he double checks the address on his computer while he seems to be giving off excitement through the phone line. 

Wilson then clears his throat before speaking again, “I have a request to make, the community center is much closer to your place than my condo. After the lesson and the dinner, I’d like to have a chance to change before going to the formal dance. Do you mind if I can change at your place? It would be very helpful.” 

You reply that it wouldn’t be a problem, it will allow you to do the lesson in more casual clothing and you would feel better being able to give Keith a proper supper with the later night possible.

With that sorted out, you tell Wilson you will see him on Saturday. He starts to say goodbye over the phone when all off a sudden he realizes he forgot something. He asks you what your most accurate shoe size is? He can pick up some good shoes for you. 

Of course, he’s offering to pay for something, but you decide since you will buy all the tickets for the event, he can do this and you give him the most accurate shoe size. And with that the conversation is over and the next date is set up. 

You order the tickets through the website for the lessons, dinner and the evening dance. The rest of your day is spent grocery shopping and making some supper for the next few days. You make sure to send your best friend a message. You omit the details for now and just let him know that the third date went well, and you have a fourth one planned for the next weekend. 

* * *

Monday morning is rather depressing as the crisp but cold fall weather has become a cold, grey rainy day. Wilson would normally feel the impact of the weather a bit more, but he’s floating on clouds. He has a meeting to formalize his consultant contract for the clinical trial with HR, he’s made himself a chickpea salad and he’ll grab some soup from the café. Even the tedious clinic duty doesn’t even bother him.

House isn’t in when he walks by the Diagnostics office. Likely the dismal weather will keep House at bay as he’ll have to drive into work and the weather seems to have an impact on his leg. Whether it is more physical than psychological he’ll never know for sure, but he predicts a foul House today.

He works though his paperwork and cues up a swing/big band playlist on his ipod and hums along as he signs off on treatment plans, department head approvals etc. Noon rolls around and House is absent; he’s not worried just yet, but just an inkling of concern pulls at him. If House doesn’t appear by the time, he’s off to clinic duty, he’ll give him a call. And with that he’s down to the café with his salad in a Tupperware and he buys a yogurt, some corn chowder and a coffee. He goes to one of the small 2 person tables in the corner and gets comfortable. Halfway through the salad, the decoy chickpea salad Tupperware, now empty, is tossed down on the table in front of him as he jumps at the sudden movement. 

“Your chickpea salad is not enough to feed my manly metabolism! I’d like to have some fries.” After, saying this House has sat down in the chair across from him and he looks agitated. It is a bad day for sure based on the irritated energy that House is giving off in not waves but swells.

“Good afternoon to you too House. I see you already ate the chickpea salad.” Wilson tries to look annoyed but he’s feeling smug, House did exactly what he expected. Moving naturally, he reaches back into his wallet and pulls out a crisp 10-dollar bill and offers it to House. “Here, for the fries. Don’t put too much ketchup on them, I don’t like them soggy.” 

With little more than a grunt, House snatches the 10 out of his hand and goes into the queue to get an order of fries, of course he returns with a fountain drink of his own and a packet of M&Ms and then proceeds to pocket any of the remaining small change. 

Wilson manages to steal a few of the fries, but House is in a shitty and mean mood, mainly sulking and making pained faces while talking trash about everyone around them. But as House continues to eat, some of the bite begins to weaken and he can finally ask him if he has a case. House makes an exasperated noise, “Not yet,” he replies, “but, it means that regular poker night will resume now.”

This statement tells Wilson that House has settled into his own routine at his place. House then continues with, “Aaaaand that since you aren’t seeing anyone, we can do some take out and trashy TV on Friday.” He already found a “Housewives of Atlanta” marathon which will make for some quality entertainment.

Wilson nods in agreement. He then tells House about his clinical trial approval and the HR paperwork was started this morning. House then asks him some of the details about the mechanism of the trial drug. Although House finds cancer to be diagnostically boring, he is always curious about clinical trials and new drug development due to possible novel mechanisms of drug activity. He has a love for using drugs for alternate treatments on his own patients and he has managed to get them to actually work.

Wilson then heads to his office to drop off the Tupperware containers and perform his clinic duty. He bumps into Thirteen on his shift. She asks him if he clinical trial review request was approved, and he tells her the short summary. Her eyes narrow, just like House’s does when he’s thinking something, and she said Chase was right. And with that she picks up her next clinic file and they get back to work dealing with the basic and unexciting.

* * *

Monday fades into another grey and wet Tuesday. You feel like you need to emotionally fight the damp, and you go about your business at work. You only briefly bump into Zhou from Saturday night and you don’t notice anything about him so hopefully, he won’t say anything about being at the play with Wilson.

Tuesday evening you do a little basic research as far as comfortable clothing for the dance lesson as well as some shoes. You’ve got one pair of flats with a relatively smooth sole those will have to do. You dig around your closet to see if you can work anything that is period appropriate. You know that Wilson will go all out – the man already did this in the past. Plus, you know he’ll look amazing in a suit. Digging around you find a skirt shoved towards the back, a black with white pinstripe wool A-line skirt. You could wear one of your button-up dress shirts with a tie. Not 100% the look, but you do not own any dresses or shirt skirt combinations that will fit. You can just wear a t-shirt with another A-line skirt for the lesson. The impact of such a change in outfits should work in your favor. . . going from basic clothing to fancy should set the mood. It is time to push yourself out of your comfort zone and you hope this will result in a score. With Wilson asking to change at your place means he can easily use that as a way to bring an overnight bag. You smile to yourself as you get lost in your dirty thoughts.

* * *

Tuesday evening has Wilson digging through his closet trying to find his old swing dance shoes. He knows he has a small box of items from when he was at McGill, and his ex-wives have always managed to make sure he has the box even with his lack of awareness of physical objects. He finally finds it buried in the bedroom that House was using before he moved back to his apartment. It is covered in dust and he opens it with a nervous anticipation, sure enough, he finds his shoes. 

They are a basic pair of Oxfords that are two tone, the toe and heel are a soft beige and the middle with the laces is chocolate brown. He turns them over to check the leather sole. It looks a little dry but nothing a little polish can do to get them back into shape. Folded neatly in an old pencil box are a few scarves/handkerchiefs he used to put in his suit coat pocket instead of a pocket square. The smell a little musty so he pulls them out to put them in the wash. 

He doesn’t have his old suit from when he used to dance, as he definitely wouldn’t fit into it anyways. He may have been blessed with a slender figure for much longer than most, but his metabolism has caught up to him after forty, so he makes plans to go to a vintage menswear store on Thursday.

* * *

Poker night is uneventful. House hasn’t suspected anything and if anything, he seems a little lost and distant with no case. House seems to think that Wilson is back in full orbit of him. Randomly, House shifts the conversation to his team, as he can’t tell if he should be proud of the fact that all of his male fellows have dated the nursing staff to varying degrees. 

Maybe he should see if there is any juicy gossip from the nurses House muses aloud. Wilson turns to look at House’s expression but he’s already raising bus stop guy’s bid in poker and they shift to who is full of more shit than the other in friendly poker banter and if the Flyers or the Devils will do well this season.

* * *

Thursday, you swing by the community center to pick up the tickets and you ask for clarification if it is okay to show up a little later for the dance after attending the lesson and dinner. The staff member confirms that it is totally fine and also lets you know that if you are interested in drinking the bar starts serving around 6. He also makes it clear that part of the bar profits will also be donated to the charity, but that it would be better if you just donated directly at the event. 

Wilson skips out of lunch on Thursday to use the time to swing by the vintage formal wear store. Thankfully, the store is empty and he’s able to get personalized attention from the store clerk. With his oft practiced overwhelming niceness, Wilson is able to get excellent service. He’s able to find a three-piece suit made with lightweight chocolate brown tweed with a herringbone pattern. He has to make sure it isn’t too heavy, or he will sweat up a storm and he doesn’t want to have to shower until after sex. 

He then starts to ponder that he can wear one of his light blue solid dress shirts with it, a brown and blue tie and then add a patterned bright blue kerchief. The suit doesn’t require any alterations and other than a bit of a musky scent he makes sure to drop it off at the dry cleaners on his way back to PPTH.

* * *

Friday morning, House’s team is chilling in the office as House naps in his office chair when Cuddy enters. She rouses House from his slumber to be greeted with a remark on her tight pencil skirt not quite containing her large ass.

Casually tossing a file on the main table, Cuddy informs them that they have a case, but the patient won’t be in until Monday morning. He is a famous New York based photographer, who has been dealing with a chronic health issue. Nothing that appears to be threatening his life yet, but serious enough that he wants the best Diagnostics team on the east coast to see if they can figure out the issue.

“Great, so no work until Monday then! How much homework should I assign to the kids?” House asks Cuddy this with that shit eating grin as all of them sigh in unison and he wiggles his eyebrows for added emphasis. 

Cuddy ignores the comment “Your team has been meeting their required clinic hours as well as covering the ones that you’ve blown off this week. They just need to look over the file and determine if they want to reserve any equipment for tests on Monday.” And with that Cuddy turns on her heel and the click-clack of her patent pumps echo in the hallway.

“You have your orders! Let’s get a differential up on the board this morning! I have a lovely evening of take out and trashy TV with Wilson tonight.”

By lunchtime, they have about half a dozen theories and Foreman and Chase are already logging in equipment use requests. House doesn’t want to appear satisfied even though he secretly is with his team’s prep work. He decides to mess with them asking about any nurse related gossip.

Taub, makes empty sounds with is mouth as he turns away and tries to pretend to disappear; if he doesn’t move and House will ignore him. Chase makes himself an easier target as he tries to clear his throat to clear some nervous phlegm and House pounces. 

“Chase! You have plans with one of the nurses! What are you doing to woo her?” House leans over the table as he notices his stomach rumble, realizing Wilson will be eating lunch soon, which is good since Wilson was out on some errand yesterday.

With no chance for escape, Chase comes clean saying he’s going out with one of the ER nurses tomorrow and not to worry, he’ll be ready for work on Monday morning. Taub has used this as a chance to physically escape along with Foreman who is well past his nurse dating days and Thirteen escaped before this even started, she stated that she really had to use the restroom and just left. 

Abandoned by his team, House heads to Wilson’s office and enters in his dramatic fashion. Wilson sure enough is doing paperwork for his patient prescriptions. Without even looking up, Wilson replies, “I need another five minutes to get this submitted. Take a seat or something.” Wilson gestures with his left hand a pen between his fingers. House grunts in reply as he sits down on Wilson’s couch and plays with his little accent pillow. He then notices that Wilson has a suit from the dry cleaners also hanging on his coat rack between his shelves in the corner. House stares at the dry cleaning and leans forward as though zooming in a little will help him understand it better.

“You have a dry-cleaned suit in your office. This can only mean that you picked it up this morning on your way into work and due to your anal-retentive nature, you don’t want to leave it in your car wrinkling it worse or something like that.”

Wilson finally looks up as he’s double checking the prescriptions. “Well you know me; I do like my suits to be properly laundered. I can’t pull off the jeans and suitcoat like you can.”

House isn’t letting Wilson off easy, “What’s the suit for? Trying to impress me and take our relationship to the next level?”

Wilson stands up to head to lunch with House at the café. House follows his lead and Wilson replies as they exit his office. “As I’ve stated previously, working naked is generally frowned down upon and a legal offense in some places.”

The two of them amble down to the café. House then speaks, “But really? What is the suit for? That’s a three-piece vintage suit Wilson, not your standard generic suitcoat with matching pants. Isn’t it a little ambitious for you?”

Wilson finally fake gasps to impart a sense of genuine shock and horror before replying to House in a mocking tone, “You’ve found me out House. I felt I had to step up my game for trashy TV and take out at your place tonight. Or are you willing to accept me generic suit and all?”

Deciding if it is worth pissing Wilson off before dinner tonight, House decides on a rare strategic retreat. Wilson is up to something, but he’s currently at a loss. These things always have a way of working themselves out, especially Wilson related things. They then chat about House’s new case and House of course gets Wilson to foot the bill.

Later that night, Wilson arrives with Vietnamese take out from a new place that just opened. House is always a little scared to try new places, but it delivers. He tries to see if Wilson is hiding anything, but Wilson appears as normal. If anything, Wilson is in a perfect Wilson mood, neither too bitchy, nor too caring and he still quips back sarcastic remarks as fast as House an illicit them. Wilson has appeared to return to normal.

* * *

Wilson wakes up excited on Saturday morning. He was able to leave House’s place just after 11 and he was able to sleep in until 8 today. He has one last errand to run, he is going to pick up a pair of swing dance friendly shoes for her. There is a used clothing store for gently used dance and theatre supplies in town and he’ll find a basic pair in her size that is going to be comfortable and allow for sufficient sliding along the floor. Wilson showers and styles his hair for later in the day making sure it has the right balance of fluff to structure. His outfit is basic and comfortable and the opposite of hip or fashionable and it is all on purpose. A soft grey t-shirt, khaki dockers and of course his McGill sweatshirt. 

He’s out the door just before 10 so he can get in the clothing store just as they open. He finds what he’s looking for with ease turning on his sparkle and mild manners by chatting up the man working that morning. With the shoes in hand by 10:30, he’s off to the Farmer’s Market and in time to make lunch and pick out his final decision on his outfit . . .

* * *

You wake up on Saturday morning both excited, nervous and intimidated. Excited that you should be able to sleep with Wilson tonight, nervous for the exact same reason and intimidated by the prospect of the swing dance lessons. Keith senses something is up as he keeps following you around as you pull out clothing for the lessons and dinner as well as for the formal part of the dance night.

A few errands are necessary in the morning and they keep you occupied, making sure you have enough milk for coffee, fruit, yogurt, eggs etc for Sunday morning. Of course, you also pick up a box of condoms feeling confident as your last box was so old that they passed their expiration date. It was a dry spell – yes – and you are going to break it tonight.

After lunch you throw on a basic black A-line skirt, a very old Alkaline Trio shirt (how do you even still have this?) and a black hoodie as well. With your nervous energy, you prep the outfit for later, the black wool skirt, some lightweight tights as the temperature will dip close to freezing tonight with a frost warning, a red button-down dress shirt and a blue tie with a red floral pattern. 

Wilson gives you a call to let you know he’s about 10 minutes away around 2:30 and he calls again when he’s parked outside your building. You grab the lesson and dinner tickets and a small purse that fits the bare minimum and throw the light winter coat on again. Wilson is in his car smiling, beaming almost radiating a type of excitement. Once in the car you lean in for a half hug as you say hello. He returns the hug and sneaks a quick peck on your cheek as he as there is a twinkle in his eyes.

Wilson then speaks to you with an air that what he’s about to say is no big deal, “Oh, by the way, I picked up some shoes for you. Don’t worry, I got them from a secondhand shop for dance and theatre clothing, so they weren’t expensive of anything like that.” 

You feel yourself start to blush and now you can only blurt out the expected and anticipated, “Oh you didn’t need to! If anything, I am freaking out a bit about this, but it is good to keep challenging myself.”

Wilson gives you a soft look of understanding as he glances towards you while still keeping his eyes on the road. “Look, let me put it this way, when people started swing dancing, they were doing this for fun, and it doesn’t have to be perfect. It is very accessible and I’m sure I know a few pointers to help and I won’t judge you either. You should just have fun!”

Cheesy peep talks in general do not reassure or inspire you, but there is an honesty in what Wilson has told you and you can feel yourself relax just a little bit just as you reach the community center. He parks the car and pops the trunk to pull out the shoes he picked up for you and invites you to sit down on the edge of the trunk to change shoes from the pair you had selected. The shoes are simple black oxford flats and the sole is smooth leather instead of a normal rubber sole. The shoes are underwhelming and since they are broken in a bit you can see how you will be more comfortable that if they were new.

And with that you head into the small auditorium of the community center. It has a stage on one side, tables at the opposite with water and juice and a place to put your jackets, bags and other items. The wood floor is well worn with lines for basketball and volleyball marked out and the basketball hoops have been retracted. It reminds you of your elementary school auditorium from the 1920s with all of the different uses in one room. The rest of the people for the lesson are milling around, families with young kids, a few high school and university students. There are older adults from their 30s all the way until 60s, but you don’t commit since you are a poor judge of age. Two couples introduce themselves as the instructors for today’s intro to swing, there are two lesbians, one with a bow tie and vest while her partner is wearing a rockabilly style dress; the other couple are mixed race, a lanky black man with a fedora, suspenders, white dress shirt and black slacks is with a petite Asian woman wearing a vintage blouse and high waisted capris. 

They do a quick survey of the crowd to gauge their lesson; who has tried swing dancing before? Who knows nothing? Who thinks they know something? And lastly who is here to have fun? Most of the students including yourself respond to the questions, yet Wilson oddly doesn’t disclose that he has experience, though he waves his hand excitedly when asked if he’s there to have fun. 

As ready as you ever will be you, take a deep breath and try to follow the instructors as they first give an overview of the lesson; you will learn 6 basic moves for the Lindy Hop, the instructors will do a quick demonstration and then break off to individual work with small groups to show you the footwork one on one while those other group members and also watch. They perform a quick demo on the stage and Wilson is bouncing around behind you. He places both hands on your shoulders to ground himself as he’s intensely watching the instructors and his eyes dart back and forth.

Your small group gets the lanky black guy as your instructor and he demos the basic pacing for the dance. Depending on if you are leading or following, you will take your first step with the opposite foot and since Wilson is more experienced you go with the following footwork. You feel hesitant and awkward at first. As everyone is going through the rock-step to triple step pattern you are concentrating hard. Wilson finally breaks it, “Could you look any more constipated? Come on, you’ve got this!” you finally look up to him and realize how hard you are trying to not mess up that you forgot what you were doing here in the first place. The rest of the people in your group are in the same boat and your awkwardness evaporates as everyone begins to loosen up. 

The instructors rotate between the different groups and for learning the footwork they break up the leaders and followers to learn how to swing out, swing in, move in a circle before teaming up with a partner. Something that you weren’t expecting was that this isn’t a necessarily date oriented activity and instead, you rotate between dancing with a different partner as you work your way through the basics. It is oddly nice and takes the pressure off since each person is different and helps you see things in a slightly different way. After about an hour, everyone takes a break for the refreshments and you and Wilson have some time to check in.

Wilson looks oddly calm, yet you sense he’s holding back. He clearly hasn’t given away any past knowledge and you were too busy to notice him all that much rotating between other participants. You only noticed that the Asian instructor, commented that he was doing really well, and he simply thanked her with a pleasant smile. After taking a large gulp of water, Wilson asks how you are doing, “What do you think? Having a good time?” You think briefly before replying. You are not a natural, but you haven’t tried to do something without trying to get it just right. “I think so. Even though it is a little tricky for me, it is a very positive environment here and everyone has been encouraging.”

Wilson softly smiles at you before taking another swig of his water bottle and he looks confident but understated, he clearly is biding his time for – something big. “I’m enjoying myself too, though I have to admit I’m looking forward to dancing in the formal later with you.” You have no clever reply, so you stick with a simple, “Yeah, me too. Just make sure to take care of me on the dance floor.” As you say that he pulls you in for a side hug and he runs his left hand along your back. “I will.” And he just looks down at you with the cutest smile and you can see dimples on his cheeks. 

After the hydration break, the lesson picks up with three more basic moves, a twist, double break and a rhythm break. Again, the two of you dance with other partners as you work your way through the auditorium and when it ends about an hour later for the dinner break you have reached your capacity for maximum number moves that you can remember. Thankfully, whenever you were paired up with Wilson for the second half, he’d give a few quick pointers here and there. All soft but accurate statements like, “that was good or try doing it a little more like this” followed by him sneaking in a quick demo behind the instructors’ backs. 

You are starving as they thank everyone for attending and they hope you had fun. Everyone gives a round of applause for the instructors who take a bow from the stage. With that the group makes their way to a cafeteria in the community center where there is a buffet of a huge assortment of Americana-style food but catering to all diets. There are hotdogs, hamburgers, vegetarian options, salad, potato salad, mac and cheese, as well as brownies and chocolate chip cookies for dessert and ample non-alcoholic beverages. 

You sit down at a table with some of the other older attendees and strike up some small talk. Well more exactly, Wilson initiates the small talk and you just comment as necessary which feels good as you aren’t keen on small talk. The other participants were grad students and postdocs from Princeton, and they were interested in seeing if this is a good activity for a future grad student/postdoc social. They are looking for something that is group related and had the lessons as a component. Of course, the grad students are taking full advantage of the ample available food while you notice that Wilson is rather conservative, then again, he’s a well-paid professional. Most of the food on his plate isn’t too heavy and you wonder if it is on purpose . . .

One of the hosts, announces to the diners that the bar next door will be open for drinks for those of legal drinking age in ten minutes. They remind everyone that when the dance starts at 7 it is dry since the community center doesn’t have a liquor license and to please drink responsibly. Wilson then looks at you and with a playful wiggle of his eyebrows, he says, “Shall we?” and you nod in reply as you tell the other people at your table that it was nice to meet them and you will be back in a bit for the dance. The both of you clear off your plates and head to his car to continue to your place to change.

Once Wilson has parked the car on your street, he pops open the trunk to pull out the suit on a hanger and what is clearly an overnight bag that one would normally expect a woman to have based on gender stereotypes. You lead him into your place as Keith begs for supper. As you feed Keith, Wilson asks if he can use your bathroom to change. You tell him it is fine after you can grab a few items from there to use in your bedroom. He nervously fidgets in the living room as you pop in to grab deodorant and perfume before heading to change. 

As you change, you wonder if the perfume is really worth it, since you’ll likely sweat it off, but at least you can smell sexy before you dance! You change into a basic black cotton bra and underwear that is comfortable and breathable before putting on the lightweight black tights. To freshen up, you reapply deodorant and spritz some jasmine based perfume on. The red dress shirt is simple and then you futz around with the tie. Normally, you like to do a full windsor knot since it helps to shorten the tie length, but it might be a little too thick and tight, so you settle for a half-windsor. With that you call it a day and only add a little bit of loose powder on your face to absorb the sweat and some basic eyeliner. Done and done.

You expected to find Wilson dressed and ready in the living room when you emerge but he’s still in the bathroom. Wow, he takes longer than you do in the bathroom for a night out! You plop down on the chair and wait for him to finish up. You can hear him doing something in the bathroom and whatever his routine is he takes it very seriously. Fifteen minutes later, you hear the door click open and he comes out. Normally, he’d be the one complementing you first, but you beat him to the punch by a mile.

“Oh wow!” is all you can say at first as you see that he’s wearing a dark chocolate brown herringbone three-piece suit with a sky-blue dress shirt and a paisley floral-patterned tie with brown, blue and mustard elements. He has an additional loosely fluffed handkerchief in the pocket that matches the tie and you then notice that he’s added just a slight amount of gel to his hair to give it a little more style than fluff and a little bit of it curls over his forehead. In his left hand he’s holding a pair of two-tone oxfords that are beige/tan and chocolate brown and you can finally continue. “You, you look amazing, James!”

Wilson then ruffles the back of his hair with his free hand and he’s so blinding as he replies, “Thank you.” as he sheepishly looks at his feet before he looks you directly in the eyes and smiles. “You look good as well! Love the tie, not something I was expecting.” And Wilson now is complimenting your outfit and you blush before thanking him for his compliment.

You get up from the chair to get a closer look at his outfit, it is stunning, he looks so damn handsome that you can’t wait to have an excuse to touch him. At the same time Keith has walked over to sniff him and Wilson then squats down to show some Keith some attention and he looks up at you with playful eyes below those expressive eyebrows. After Keith gets the pets and scritches he demanded he scurries off to look out the front windows over the street. 

“Shall we head to the dance Miss?” as he says this Wilson offers his free left hand to you and you take it as he leads you to the door to put on your shoes, coats and head out to the car. As you lock the door to your apartment Wilson stands behind you and he sneaks another quick peck on your cheek as he leans in and then feigns ignorance. He’s already a flirt, but now it is turned up to 200%. He offers you his arm and he escorts you to his car, opens the passenger side door for you and you are a complete buzz of emotions, excitement and hormones as you chat about nothing special on the way back to the community center. 

You both agree one drink at the bar is required before making a fashionable late appearance at 8. The bartender nods as you walk in and come up to the bar for your drinks. There are two groups of people in the bar, those who are just there to drink, and the other part are clearly there for the swing dance as many of them are wearing vintage or vintage-style apparel. 

You are about to order a beer and he gently places a hand on your shoulder, “Beer is good for most things, but not the best option before dancing. Mixed drinks are better for the stomach.” Wilson’s rather contained dinner now makes complete sense an upset stomach with dancing would be a bad combination. He orders a gin and tonic and you get a rye and ginger. He of course makes small talk with the bartender as he pays for your drinks, “Is this a typical Saturday night for you?” the bartender, who looks rockabilly with sleeve tattoos on both arms shrugs. 

“Yeah pretty much, though the swing dances make for more fashionable clientele. This your first time attending?” Wilson smiles and nods, “Yeah it is, I had no idea this happened here, I’m glad she found this.” and he nudges you as you are sipping your drink. The bartender smiles as he looks at you, “Looks like you found a serious swing fan here. Well enjoy your evening!” You reply with a simple thanks and then Wilson wraps his left arm around your waist and leads you to a table for two in the corner. 

Wilson then gives you a sweet encouraging pep talk as he starts to fidget in place. He really stresses to have fun, not worry and that he’ll do his best to make sure you don’t get lost. As nervous as you are about trying to connect all of the dance moves, you think he’ll be patient. You both finish your drinks just in time to head over at 8. 

You present the tickets to the staff at the entry and a woman, does a double take, she didn’t recognize either of you at first since Wilson looked completely forgettable in his sweatshirt and dockers. He smiles at her and replies that he felt the need to dress to impress and then he gives you a hug pulling you into his chest and you blush. You watch how she smiles and tells you to enjoy the evening. Wilson is now arm and arm with you again.

Both of you enter the auditorium which now has a live band on stage playing instrumental swing, nothing you recognize, as you only know obvious classics from artists like Glenn Miller and Duke Ellington. The floor is halfway full of people from all walks of life dancing. You see people from the lesson early today as well as others dressed up and more advanced based on the moves that you definitely don’t know. 

Wilson looks around in awe and he looks down at you with excitement before he speaks, “Ready?” you trust him as you nod before replying, “I’m as ready as I’ll ever be.” He leads you off to a corner of the room and then begins to take lead and talks you through things giving you a heads up what to do next. Wilson is a great partner as he doesn’t push you too hard and when you make your first mistake on a spin out, he arches up a single eyebrow and you burst out laughing realizing that it isn’t a big deal. He thankfully, keeps his instructions clear and as you get more comfortable you can start to look around just a little at those around you. 

You can feel the positive energy from everyone around you and catch a few people looking at Wilson with a bit more interest and you feel special that he’s your date. A little voice in your head goes “Mwahahahaha, the hot guy is with me.” Wilson seems to know this as when they play a few slow songs he leans in and pulls you close to slow dance rather than swing dance and it feels amazing. You can smell that same musky-cinnamon cologne and you feel his warmth at all of your body contact points. 

The band takes a break allowing for everyone to either have the non-alcoholic drinks there or slip over to the bar next door. You make a quick trip to the bathroom and when you have returned, Wilson has taken off his suit jacket and is now only wearing the vest with his sleeves rolled up to his elbows as he’s talking to another guy. As you get closer you recognize the other doctor, Robert, is there wearing a dress shirt, tie, fitted dress pants and bright red converse sneakers.

“Hello again. Using your normal accent tonight?” You greet him and hold out your hand for a handshake as he looks pleasantly surprised. Wilson then leans back rolling his eyes before he speaks, “That’s right, Chase was at speed dating and House prevented him from using his Aussie accent, so you met him them.” Chase smiles and shakes your hand as he then asks, “You’re here with Wilson tonight? Whose idea was this? I’m thinking Wilson since he’s dressed so well!” Wilson smiles as he tilts his head towards you, “It was her idea, and this was her first introduction to swing. Do you come frequently Chase?”

Chase replies that he does, and he then waves at a woman heading your direction. She turns out to be one of the nurses in the ER at PPTH and she got Chase into swing dancing a few months ago. He’s just getting the basics down, but she’s been doing it for years. He also makes it clear that he is here just as a friend, implying that they may have dated or been involved but his attendance is of a platonic nature and they go out for drinks afterwards usually. Chase introduces you to her, only using her first name, Christine. She’s a gorgeous South Asian woman and she’s got her sleek black hair pulled up in a ponytail accented with a scarf around the hair tie. You introduce yourself and shake her hands and she then greets Wilson as well with a quick “Dr. Wilson.” This is followed by a curt nod and he replies with an equally curt, “Nurse Singh.” You can see how she glances back and forth between you and Wilson as she puts things together. 

Singh then leads the conversation, “Is this your first-time swing dancing?” and even though she seemed a bit hesitant at first, she feels much more comfortable than the other nurse you met previously. You reply that you are a total newbie. She replies with encouragement, “I hope you are having a good time and aren’t too intimidated. It really is a blast. What about you Dr. Wilson, is this your first time?” 

Wilson fidgets and shoves his hands in his pants pockets as he may be blushing under the dim lighting. “Oh no, I may be a bit out of practice, but I have experience from when I was younger.” She seems a little surprised and then excited. She turns to you and Chase asking if she can borrow Wilson for a few dances when the band comes back from break. Both you and Chase shrug almost in sync and are fine with it. With that, she’s whisked Wilson off to a corner and the two of them start discussing more detailed elements of the Lindy Hop with unbridled excitement. 

You and Chase feel a bit awkward as he finally breaks the ice. “Is this your first time out with Wilson or have you had any other dates?” he seems halfway engaged but polite enough. 

“This is the fourth date.” You reply with a basic factual statement and Chase now has a look of surprise. 

“Fourth date, wow, Wilson has been keeping it casual at work.” He seems a bit proud of Wilson as though he’s thinking ‘right on ya Wilson’. 

You smile back, “I think his casual or playing it cool may not be enough. I met your boss, House on the second date. He showed up to the restaurant and then chased after us on his motorcycle. I have no idea how he knew were we’d be, but it is clear that not many things get by House.”

Chase then begins to look nervous, swallowing before he speaks tentatively, “This may sound odd, but what restaurant were you at if I may ask?” 

“Bamboo Garden. Why?” you look at him puzzled.

Chase loudly groans has he hangs his head in his hands for a minute. He then composes himself and looks at you with utmost sincerity, “I am so sorry, that is my fault. Wilson asked Thirteen and I for advice about which place would be less crowded on a Friday night. After Wilson left, House came in and I told him the name. I didn’t think anything of it.” 

You feel sorry for him, it was obvious that he didn’t intend any ill will towards you. You give him a friendly pat on his shoulder as you tell him it is okay. “Don’t worry about it, from my brief encounter with him, he seems to be an ass. Albeit, a very smart and observant ass. And as weird as his antics were, it was clear that Wilson enjoys them. You didn’t get to see him sprint off laughing like a manic and mocking House’s running shoes and inability to run. They clearly have some sort of friendship that makes no sense to anyone but them.”

Chase visibly relaxes as you continue to talk to him. He’s back to looking comfortable and no longer feeling guilty. “Well that is some interesting dirt on House. And you are right, none of us can understand their friendship other than the fact that they really are best friends.”

By that point the band is getting ready to play the third set and Wilson has returned with Singh. She cheerfully exclaims that they will participate in one of the solo spots; at this point in the evening the dancers will switch from a free dance to allowing different couples perform in front of the crowd for the first 20 minutes, and then the floor will return to free dancing until the end. As the bands starts, the crowd moves into a large loose circle and couples looking to participate queue up on one side. 

Right before you and Chase go to cheer on from the crowd, Wilson calls your name and you stop to turn towards him. “Wish me luck!” and he leans in sneaking another quick peck on the cheek. You blush and give him a hearty slap on the back, “Impress me!” and he scurries off with Singh. Chase is looking at you with a grin as he nods knowingly. 

The two couples that lead the lesson earlier that day, start off this portion of the evening. No longer stuck teaching the basics they are dancing no holds barred. The lesbian couple are adorable as they do a lot of moves (that you have no idea what they would even be called) where they separate and mirror each other before they are pulled back together. The crowd roars as they make way for the couple with the lanky black guy and the petite Asian girl. They have a completely different style, with lots of twirls, and he leads her through a series of flips, pulls her under his legs into a toss-roll-flip something! Your brain is trying hard to keep up with their physical movements; they are impressive. 

Various couples all have their place in the spotlight as they have a chance to practice performing their more difficult moves with a friendly and supportive audience. Finally, Wilson and Singh are up and they start out with many of the basic moves but executed with a sharp precision adding in extra kicks or additional leg movements to highlight things. She twists out for an extra spin and he pulls her back in for a dramatic dip, her free hand almost touching the floor and the crowd cheers at the sensual nature of the move. They hold it just long enough to maximize the impact before popping back up to dance together upright and they stick to the basics until the very end when he leads her through one of the flips as she nails it and they dance off in opposite directions to end their 3 minutes of minor fame. 

With that, they both make it over to you and Chase as other couples continue to enter and exit the circle all impressive. Wilson is sweaty and beaming and Singh seems impressed with his skills as they are commending each other for being a great partner. Wilson slides in behind you and places his hands on your shoulder as he bops along to the music. You look back towards him and smile. “You were amazing! Are you sure you didn’t practice before this?” He makes his smug little smile before replying, “No, I did not, though I was nervous about that final move, but Christine was a great leading follower to work with! I’m sure I’ll feel this in a day or two . . .” he tries to make an upset cringing face about future aching joints, but his eyes give away how happy he is right now. Chase and Singh are both chatting as she is helping to point out moves that other people are doing and he pretty much nods along but he does seem to be paying attention.

The time for showing off is over and the dancers return to a free dance of all skill levels on the floor. You try your best to stick to the basics, while Wilson uses his increased confidence to slip in some more advanced elements in his own dancing. The two of you catch Chase and Singh and Wilson comments that for a beginner, Chase seems to have a natural knack for it, but it might be linked to his selective apathetic attitude. 

You are really starting to feel exhausted as things continue; thankfully, the band switches to more classic songs to slow dance to. You are finally able to become lazy and pretend like you are at a high school dance again and Wilson pulls you in close. The two of you are able to sway and he’s oddly quiet and you both enjoy the calm as you are able to rest your head against his chest. Being the romantic he is, as the final song ends, Wilson leads you into a slow and supported dip before he leans in to kiss you passionately on the lips. And with it, a switch clicks in your as all of the playful flirting is no longer enough, and you need to get back to your place as quickly as possible. The two of you put your coats on and he wraps his right arm around your waist as you exit side by side. Just outside, Chase and Singh ask if you want to join them for their post dancing drinks at the bar. 

You and Wilson both look at each other and together form a full statement. Wilson begins, “Thanks for the invite, but,” and you finish it, “we really should be going. Have a good evening.”

Chase and Singh politely thank you and also wish you a good evening as well.

The car ride is filled with the tension of pre-sex vibes; that slippery, chaotic pull that swirls around both of you as you outwardly project a feeling of calm. Both of you hold back for fear that if you started things before reaching your place you’d be caught for public indecency. Time becomes distorted as it both seems to take forever to get to your street and park. While you are opening the lobby door Wilson is leaning into your back eager for more physical contact and he walks up the stairs pressed flush with your side all the way up to your door. As you are digging around for your keys, he’s snaked his arms under your armpits and wraps his arms around your chest. He uses this to close the small gap between his chest and your back and it is nearly impossible to focus on opening your door and you begin to giggle. 

You finally manage to open the door and as soon as you are in, Wilson spins you around, using his long reach to shut the door as he then pins you up against it going in for a kiss. A kiss that has clearly been building up since last week. It is slow, wet and deep as his left hand has moved to your neck while his right hand wraps around your waist and he just barely moans into your mouth as you wrap both arms around his neck. You want to keep kissing him like two horny teenagers before your parents come home, but neither of you has even had a chance to take of your winter coats; because of course Keith will not be ignored!

He has resorted to getting your attention by making one of those deep throated meowrrrls that stops everything. Wilson stops and looks up at the ceiling with a look of exasperation as though a divine power is torturing him, and you blush as Keith gives you ‘the’ trademark cat stare of judgement. You break the sexual tension as you respond to Keith. “Fine fine, I’ll brush you and give you your snack, but no more interruptions after this fuzzy butt.” Wilson mock rolls his eyes as he begins to take of his coat, suitcoat and shoes before commenting on your nickname for Keith, “Fuzzy butt?” You feel the need to clarify as you remove your shoes, winter coat and walk to grab his brush. “Yeah, he’s a long-haired cat, so of course his butt area is fuzzy.”

Wilson has made himself at home as he walks into your kitchen while rolling his shirt sleeves up, “Water?” as he pulls out glasses from the cabinets. While you are brushing Keith, you reply, “Yes, thanks. Once I take care of Keith we can pick up where we left off.”

After feeding Keith his kitty treats and kibble you sit down at the small table with Wilson and drink the glasses of water. He looks like all of his energies are going into holding himself back yet doing exactly what he should. He clears his throat before speaking and gets up to put his used glass on the counter. He begins by speaking towards your sink and then turns around to look at you, “I would like to, you know . . . . I’d like to have sex tonight. As a doctor, I can report that it has been six months and my most recent STI test was clean.”

You play with the empty glass between your hands as you look at him. “Likewise, though it has been longer for me. My most recent STI was clean as well. I have condoms in the nightstand which I’m sure you understand are required.” He nods as he agrees, “Yes, a completely reasonable request.”

He approaches you still seated at the table and offers his right hand to you, “Miss, shall we pick up where we left off after we were rudely interrupted by Mr. Fuzzy Butt?” you take his hand and as you stand up and he leads you to the couch. He sits down and swings his legs up lengthwise as you gently straddle him over his thighs. You lean forward and reach your left hand into his hair while you right hand settles on his chest and your faces are mere inches apart. His hands have settled on your back and bum. The two of you look at each other for an instant, a pause before you begin to kiss slowly. 

The kiss is gentle, but full of potential, you both go slowly, and his hand makes lazy circles on your back as you feel his fingernails dragged against the fabric of your shirt. You lightly tug at his hair with your left hand and he hums in approval and becomes more aggressive with his tongue in your mouth. After an indeterminate amount of time, you pull back from the fairly chaste make out session as Wilson lies below you with his eyes closed. You take this pause to undo your tie and you unbutton the top few buttons on your shirt as he also begins to loosen his tie by tugging on it while pulling side to side. Both ties get tossed to the coffee table and you lean back down and unbutton his dress shirt a little while his hands are firmly placed on your hips and you lean back in to kiss his newly exposed skin and he runs his hands through your hair as a he sighs heavily. 

Without really paying attention both of you start to slowly move, sliding ever so slightly against each other as you begin to feel that need for physical touch below the waist. Wilson clearly picks up on your need as his left-hand slides between the two of you and gently caresses you through your clothes and you let out a soft moan. 

He then in a rather soft voice speaks, “Shall we take things to the bedroom?” You reply with a simple yes and he’s sitting up and with a display of his coordination from earlier in the evening on the dance floor, he’s managed to scoop you up into his arms as he heads to your bedroom. You open the door for him, and he lays you down on the bed before turning to shut the door. You reach over to turn on a small soft lamp that illuminates your room just enough that you can see each other in the dark. He looks at you with intensity in his eyes as he removes the vest and crawls onto the bed holding himself over you. Wilson then smiles as he leans in and kisses you as he lowers himself onto you. 

You think to yourself; this is gonna be a good night as you kiss him back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I’m stopping here, and I’ll have the sexy times as a separate work for those who don’t need an explicit description. I'm trying to keep this work less explicit but I personally love my sexy scenes. 
> 
> I’ll keep the next chapter in this series, so you can read starting from the post-coital cuddle time.


	5. the morning after

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After your date with Wilson, you were able to bring him back home for some consensual adult sexy times. An excellent night always leads to the morning after where you learn even more about the person you've just slept with. Lots of domestic fluff and some of Wilson's observations to keep it fresh. I really tried for that feeling that happens when you had an excellent night with someone and both of you try to drag things out well into the following day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Less exciting events as I focused on the reader and Wilson's point of view. I'll return to more action in the following chapter.

After having sex with Wilson not once but twice; last night and early this morning, you are able to spoon with him in the afterglow of the second time. He’s able to help you arrange the sheets and comforter so that you aren’t roasting hot and you can doze off again. As you expected, he’s a good person to snuggle up with.

You drift off to sleep again as it is clearly still before 7 on a Sunday morning. When you finally wake up again, you find Wilson leaning on his right side with his head propped up by his right elbow as he smiles at you. “Morning. Sleep well?” He asks this with such sweetness that your insides melt like a popsicle on the hottest day of the summer.

You smile and then reach out with your right hand to mess his hair up. “I did, all things considered.” And at that moment you feel saturated with contentedness. “How about some breakfast? I can make some coffee and oatmeal while you shower.” He beams back at you before he pulls you in for a hug as he kisses the top of your head. 

“That sounds great.” He hops up so that he can get into the shower and you check the time on your clock radio, 9:03. Still early, but your stomach begins to rumble, and you need a coffee. Hell, you need to put some clothing on, so you find your flannel pants, t-shirt and hoodie as you slide into your slippers. You walk into the living room to find Keith seated outside the bathroom door just staring at it. The toilet flushes and he mews before he turns to you and turns back to the door. Apparently, Wilson in the bathroom is interesting and he needs to be observed for cat research purposes.

In the kitchen, you put the kettle on and grind some fresh coffee beans while the water starts to boil. With the hot water, you pour it into your French Press pushing the maximum volume as you will need at least two cups, and you don’t know how many cups he’ll need but you are guessing more than one as well. With the coffee steeping, you bring a medium sized pot of water to a boil and you hear the shower running. Out of curiosity you glance at the clock to see how long he’s in the shower and the bathroom. 

With the water boiling you add two heaping cups of oatmeal, turn it down to low and stir it occasionally for about 6 to 7 minutes. The oatmeal has begun to thicken up, and you add in a dash of brown sugar and maple syrup. Meanwhile, the shower is still running so Wilson takes at least 10 minutes in the shower. You pour your first coffee of the day, and the sweet aroma hits your mouth and you feel so damn good. You scoop some of the oatmeal into a bowl, and leave an empty bowl and spoon ready for Wilson. 

As your oatmeal begins to cool, you wash off some berries and find pecans to mix in as well and you sit down at your table and eat it. The shower has stopped and there is movement in the bathroom as you hear rustling before something falls to the floor with a clatter and a “argh!” through the wall. There is a bit more movement before you hear the door open and Keith greets Wilson with a bright and cheerful meow, and he makes his way into the kitchen with Keith following him. 

“Coffee is in the French Press and oatmeal is in the pot. Help yourself.” Wilson is wearing fresh socks that are black, jeans and a Columbia t-shirt. His hair is damp, and he looks a little disorganized but relaxes at the sight of some food and coffee. 

“Thanks.” He smiles in appreciation. “Do you have milk for the coffee?” he asks even though he’s already in the fridge.

“Yep, even remembered to pick up some yesterday. I was trying to be prepared for this morning.” As you say this you blush, and you look away from him in the fridge. He ruffles his hair with his right hand as he also glances away while he’s just holding the half-gallon container of milk before he resets himself and pours a splash of milk into his coffee.

He then scoops a heaping amount of oatmeal into the bowl and adds some of the berries, pecans and a quick splash of the milk to it. He then promptly returns the milk to the fridge and carries the bowl and coffee to sit opposite of you at the table. “Thanks for the coffee and oatmeal.” Wilson says this with a sincerity that you can tell that he really appreciates your hospitality.

“Oh, really, it wasn’t much of anything. I drink coffee every morning and oatmeal is a weekend staple for me.” You are embarrassed, even though you really shouldn’t be, and you play with your coffee mug. It seems that Wilson doesn’t even really notice as he is inhaling the oatmeal at an alarming pace while sipping his coffee in between spoonfuls.

You get up to put your bowl in the sink to soak and bring the French Press to the table so you can top up your coffee. You then notice that Keith is still sitting on the kitchen floor just watching Wilson. He’s displaying very proper and distinguished cat posture, just silently watching. Without saying anything you wave the French Press in front of him asking if he’d like another cup and he just nods. 

“Ah, that was good. Thank you.” Wilson now leans back looking much more comfortable. He’s slowed down to taking more reasonable sips of his second cup of coffee and his chin is in his hand as his elbow rests on the table. 

“So, any plans for today? Recover from your swing dancing comeback?” You ask him this with a clever eyebrow wiggle. He fidgets and repositions himself to lean in a bit on both elbows now. “Oh, I don’t know, I haven’t thought that far in advance, but I think I’ll need to take a few ibuprofen soon and take it easy today.” He starts to turn on his boyish charm before he continues, “I mean it depends how quickly you need me out of here.”

Oh, he’s a smooth one for sure, it the ball is in your court and he’s leaving it up to you to make the decision. You smile even though you shouldn’t give away how you are feeling. “Well, I’m feeling the aftereffects of last night, so I don’t think I’ll be in that much of a rush either. But I really need to take a shower. You need to use the bathroom before I shower?” He shakes his head and then starts to tidy up his place setting.

You then head into the bathroom and hop in the shower taking your time to wash off the sweat and body odors associated with sex. Once you’ve toweled off and moisturized, you put on your bathrobe and head to your bedroom to pick out some clothes. Wilson then asks if it okay for him to use the bathroom with you. As soon as you say yes, you hear the sound of a blow dryer and he’s styling his damp messy hair. 

To decide what to wear, you check the forecast, it looks like another crappy fall day, high of 45 and a mix of it being overcast with rain showers. Ugh, one of the worst types of fall days, damp and cold. Realizing that you don’t need to impress Wilson in the immediate future, you go for comfortable. You find a thick pair of socks, basic fitted blue jeans, a t-shirt and you put a navy blue crew neck sweater on top. It isn’t an amazing outfit, but everything fits and it looks streamlined, simple and still flatters your figure. The point is, you have something that isn’t sloppy looking. 

You return to the bathroom so that you can blow dry and style your hair as well as other odds and ends, but you find that Wilson is still styling his own hair and you notice that he has brought his own blow dryer! That is some dedication to a male hairstyle. He is now brushing it out a bit and adding in some sort of product which likely contributes to his hair’s ability to have those controlled waves. 

“Wow, you even brought your own blow dryer. I’m not sure if I should be impressed or offended.” You say this as you stand in the doorway watching him fuss over his hair. He gives you a sideways glance as he continues to focus on his hair in the mirror while adding a little more product. “Over the years I’ve learned it is best to have my own, even if someone else has a blow dryer. I know exactly how to style my hair with this one, so I make sure to use it.” Wilson’s comment sounds so well thought out and logical that he doesn’t even follow it up. It is a fact that this is what works for him.

You really have no choice but to nod in agreement and you slide behind him to pull out your own blow dryer and work on styling your hair. He has just finished fussing with his and you watch as he puts the hair product and blow dryer back into his overnight bag and he pulls out some facial moisturizer which he lastly applies gently to his face. With that he turns to you, “Done! Sorry, if I got in your way a bit, but I’m finished.” He looks sincere and he begins to tidy any times left and place them neatly in his bag which has his clothing from yesterday also neatly refolded and packed into it.

“Do you mind if I put on some more coffee?” Wilson asks you this as he exits the bathroom. 

“Sure, I could use another cup.” You reply as you are minimally styling your hair and now working through your facial routine. 

You hear the sound of the stereo turn on in the background and he’s tuned it to the local NPR station. Wilson is now moving about in the kitchen and Keith meows at him, perhaps thinking he can get an extra breakfast. You hear Wilson discussing such things with Keith, “What? You want more food? I think you were fed already.” – meow – “I don’t think I have the authority to make that decision . . “ – meow! – “I know, you are quite persuasive. . . maybe just a little?” 

At this point you yell quite loudly that if you are home, Keith only gets some cucumber for lunch at noon and he’s specifically on a diet per his vet’s orders. 

“Sorry, Keith, it looks like I can’t give you any extra!” Wilson says this in an over dramatic fashion and sounds a little guilty as well. The water in the kettle begins to boil and he turns it off and pours some more coffee in the French Press. 

You finally exit the bathroom to find Wilson sitting on the couch stretched out lengthwise as he leans back into the right armrest. There is his cup of coffee, not surprisingly sitting on the coffee table and when he turns to you and he indicates that the rest of the coffee is on the kitchen counter. After pouring one more cup for yourself you return to the living room and place your coffee down on the table across from the chair as Wilson is sprawled out on the couch. Just as you are sitting down he sits up a bit, looking a bit wounded. 

“You don’t have to sit on the chair.” He says this with a twinge of hurt and he shifts himself so that you can join him on the couch. He now is sitting upright, and he swings his long legs forward so that you can sit on the middle next to him.

You get up and move your coffee over and settle down next to him and you lean you right side into his left as his left arm extends behind you on the back of the couch. Wilson hums contentedly as he when wraps his left arm around you to pull you in a little tighter. He feels so warm and inviting that you pull the knit afghan over your lower body and part of his as well as you settle into his side.

“This is nice.” you say as you feel at ease. Wilson replies with a simple, “It is.” The two of you sit there occasionally taking a sip from your coffee as you just exist. It is one of those moments where it really feels good as opposed to the crappy weather outside. Keith has wandered into the living room and after a quick mew, he’s leapt onto the couch and climbs over you to reach Wilson’s lap where he sits down. Both you and Wilson look down at Keith as he forms a cat loaf and his eyes immediately shut making it clear that he is not going anywhere soon.

Wilson then turns to you with a look of “help” and you smile as you lean forward and grab the remote. You turn off the stereo and turn on the TV to one of the local stations which has a seasonally appropriate news program with average at best newscasters (both in appearance and in talent). The program updates on the underwhelming happenings of the area, suggested places to eat, and to stay tuned to learn how to make your own Halloween themed candle centerpiece with Pam!

“I’ll have to consider making one of those.” Wilson states this as his left hand moves idly against your shoulder. “I could put it on my entryway table.” You turn up to look at Wilson to try to determine if he’s being serious or not. He maintains a straight face and his eyes dart down to meet yours before they dart back to watching the TV. 

“I don’t believe you; you may have a complex grooming routine, but crafting seems to be a bit of a stretch.” Wilson gives you one of his customer service smiles so you know he’s pulling your leg.

“You’re right. I’m not one for home décor, but it might be a good activity to do with House. He needs random things to distract him and when he feels like it, he can really focus on things. You should’ve seen his bachelors’ party for Chase, it was epic.” Wilson seems to be having a mix of a fond, yet pained memory as you realize that if he is referring to the Chase you’ve met a few times and that he is also a member of the ex-wives club with Wilson. That is something that isn’t worth discussing just yet. You turn your attention back to the TV and snuggle into his side a bit more before replying.

“I see, so what you are saying is that House has a random creative side that needs to be engaged or things like him chasing us down happen. Got it.” 

Wilson fidgets a bit as he sighs a bit. “Yeah, that is an accurate conclusion. Even if I can’t get him to actually do it, it may lead to something else; if I recall he has some sort of grudge with some other guy at a potato launching contest at a county fair or something like that.”

You hum in agreement; feeling comfy and warm, you snuggle a little tighter up to him and return to watching the random local programming. Wilson’s entire body relaxes a bit more and the two of you fall into a comfortable silence. One hour of local programming bleeds into a second hour of local programming and you find yourself almost dozing off despite all of the coffee. And with the thought of coffee you realize that, you need to go to the bathroom. You gingerly try to extract yourself from Wilson’s embrace and Keith mews in annoyance as you disturb him as Wilson jolts to greater awareness as he was clearly also not quite awake. 

“Bathroom, be right back.” You say this matter of factly, and he nods back in reply. As you come out of the bathroom your stomach makes a small grumble and you glance at the clock, it is just about noon. You really have lost track of time. 

“I’m starting to get a bit peckish, are you hungry?” You ask Wilson this without really thinking it through and he turns to look at you while petting Keith on his lap. 

“What time is it?” Wilson seems a little dazed as he clearly lost even greater track of time than you have. “11:55, I should either start to make some lunch or I’ll get cranky.” Wilson seems surprised as he moves back stretching his arms while disturbing Keith’s comfortable spot on his lap. 

“Oh shit. That is later than I realized. How about I take you out for lunch as a thanks for last night and this morning?” You look into his soft brown eyes and you give into his offer even though it seems to be a bit much in your opinion but at the same time, expected for him.

“Okay, I could go for a regular lunch place, but I need to give Keith some lunch before we shove off.” At the very mention of 'Keith' and 'lunch' he’s stood up on Wilson’s lap, stretched out, again hitting him in the face with his tail as Wilson makes the “Arggh – pffft” noise again as he tries to avoid the tail.

Keith then hops down to the floor and trots over to the kitchen as you pull out a cucumber, wash it off and cut off 1/3 to chop into cat bite-sized pieces and put them in the bowl. He excitedly digs into his cucumber making cute little cat crunching noises as Wilson looks on in awe. 

“Keith is a very odd cat.” Wilson ruffles his hair as he looks down at him and then heads to the bathroom. After the sound of the toilet flush, you hear him washing his hands before he pulls his overnight bag out of the room with him. 

He roots around in the bag to fish out his McGill sweatshirt as he puts it on over his t-shirt and then remembers to grab his tie from the coffee table. The two of you begin to gather up your things and you look out the window to see that it is still overcast and only appears to threaten to rain at any minute. 

You collect your phone, wallet and keys placing them in your satchel and put on a basic pair of boots with a scarf and your winter jacket and grab a hat and gloves just in case. Wilson is putting his winter coat on with scarf and then puts on his basic shoes from yesterday. You say good-bye to Keith as he has wandered off somewhere and you at the last-minute grab an umbrella. Wilson grabs his 3-piece suit back on the hanger and his overnight bag and the two of you exit into the hallway and you lock the apartment. 

Wilson with his full hands gestures for you to take the lead as you head down the stairs and you hold both the lobby and main doors open for him. It has started to gently mist, and you cringe at the prospect of a shitty wet afternoon. The click-click of the fob opens the car doors and you hop into the passenger side while Wilson places his things in the trunk before getting into the car as well. 

“What do you feel like for lunch? There is a nice bakery and café near where I live. It has soups, sandwiches and whatnot.” Wilson’s suggestion sounds good for this gloomy day and you agree that it would be fine as you try to stifle a yawn in response to the overbearing greyness.

As you are heading to a part of town that you are still unfamiliar with, Wilson points out major streets and interesting businesses. He then asks if it is okay if he parks at his condo, he’s only around the corner from the place and it is easier to park there. You agree and he’s in an old industrial building where he must have a loft from what you can see from the exterior of the building. 

After he parks, the two of you exit his garage to the street level and it is still misting but at least not raining. You reach the café, which has an odd mix of art deco design with some 90s elements, but overall it is a quiet and soothing place as the soundtrack seems reminiscent of Lilith Fair, to correspond with the 90s vibe. The host, a pimply kid likely just out of high school greets you and you find out that it will be about 15-20 minutes to wait for a table. There aren’t many other people waiting so the two of you take a seat in a small bench off to the side as you wait. 

The two of you engage in idle small talk and you look over a menu in advance to see what your options are. The entire place has a pleasant hush about it, and it seems like the perfect response to the high energy activities of the previous day. It is intimate without being overbearing and you just gently lean into his side but not that much, as you are out in public and he only pushes his thigh against yours very subtly. 

All of a sudden, the loud click-clack sound of confident high heels approaches the exit. You don’t pay any attention but then you hear a woman speak, “Wilson. Hello.” You start with the patent cream colored pumps that lead up to a very tall and stunning woman with striking teal-blue eyes, flowing brown hair and a brown pencil skirt paired a cream-colored v-neck cashmere sweater. This woman means business, as her body language proudly declares that she is the boss. She is holding her coat over her arm and a nice purse, something beyond your paygrade and there is another more modest looking woman with her, likely her sister. 

“Oh hello, just here for some lunch.” Wilson smiles at her as he replies before he continues as both of you stand up to greet them. He first first introduces you to the two women and then follows up who she is, “This is Doctor Lisa Cuddy, the Dean of Medicine at Princeton-Plainsboro and this is her sister Julia.” And you shake both of the women’s hands as you tell them it is nice to meet them. 

Lisa Cuddy looks at you and quickly figures out that you are on some sort of date with Wilson as she glances back and forth and her eyes narrow as she is taking things in. Before you can begin any small talk, the pimply host calls that your table is ready, and you have an excellent excuse to avoid her discerning eye. The brief body language between Cuddy and Wilson shows that they know each other well and that Cuddy _is clearly_ his boss. Saved by the available table waiting for both of you, you are able to fit in a quick "Nice to meet you." and Wilson follows with, “I’ll see you tomorrow morning at work. Have a good afternoon, both of you!” and he smiles at them as he also ruffles the back of his hair quickly.

As the two of you are seated, you are able to order some water and tea to start off with from the waitress. Thankfully, you’ve already figured out that you want the cream of tomato soup with the fancy grilled cheese sandwich and a pickle, from looking at the menu. You then realize from the time you meet Cuddy, you were holding your breath and you can finally relax as you notice that Wilson is keeping an eye on her and watches her as she puts her coat on and then exits the place with her sister. He then also relaxes and turns back to you. 

“Wow, so that’s your boss.” You look at him and his eyebrows arch up a little as he ruffles his hair again, and he responds. “Yep, that is the unstoppable Doctor Lisa Cuddy. You do not cross that woman.”

You nod along, “I can tell, she emanates a sense of power. She is intimidating in every sense of the word, but I’m impressed. Definitely, she looks like a role model for other women in medicine.” Wilson listens to you with interest and nods along. 

The waitress returns with two waters with lemon, a black tea for you and a pop for Wilson. Both of you are ready to order, you go with the grilled cheese with tomato soup, while he chooses a Ruben with a side of fries. 

That reminds you that Wilson had mentioned something about the clinical trial, and you hadn’t asked about it further. Seeing that you just slept with him, it would be polite to at least ask him about it. So, you try to mention it in a rather casual fashion, “So, that Doctor Cuddy is the Dean of Medicine, is she the person you needed to talk to about participating in the clinical trials?”

Wilson’s eyes pop open a bit and he appears to be pleasantly surprised, “Oh yes, she is that person. And, I was able to get that all sorted out two weeks ago.” He cocks his head as he’s thinking, and the corners of his mouth tighten a touch highlighting his dimples.

For someone who pays a lot of attention to others around him, he’s surprisingly quiet about his own affairs. You think about how to broach the subject. “Oh, that’s good news since you wanted to participate. I’m surprised, you didn’t mention it two weeks ago. You seemed keen to have an excuse to visit me at work.” You smile softly at him.

He blushes a bit as he takes a sip of his pop and briefly looks away. He finally replies, “Well, I generally don’t like to bother telling others about any of my issues when I first get to know them. . . . and I was thinking of surprising you when I have to come to your work campus, since we are off to a good start.” Of course, he’s bowing his head slightly and his eyebrows are furrowed a bit as he ruffles his hair a bit. He then glances back at you with a twinkle in his eye, “That is, if you think we’re off to a good start and you’d be interested in lunch when I’m on campus.” And his flirting power is back on at full force; so much boyish charm!

Aaawwww man, you start to feel a blush coming on from his flirty looks, so you take a sip of water and hope your food comes sooner rather than later. You smile as you nod, “Yes, it would be nice to have lunch with you again.”

You can feel the blush still on your face but you should just give up fighting it and accept that he’s the kind of guy who seems to put a lot of effort into making sure whomever he’s with is happy or content.

The waitress returns with your lunches, and you welcome the slight distraction. The grilled cheese is fancy as it uses an aged cheddar on bread that was made earlier that day and the cream of tomato soup is perfect to dip it into on this crummy grey day. Wilson, has clearly been here many times based on his lack of any sort of thought or contemplation about the menu. Thankfully, both of you are sufficiently hungry by that point so you are able to eat without silence and only when you finish your soup does Wilson speak again. 

“What it good?” He asks as again that undercurrent of nervousness pops up. You reply that everything was delicious and then you notice that half of his fries and a little of his sandwich still remains. 

It is your turn to be concerned, “How about you? You still have some food left.” Wilson looks down and then realizes that he indeed has a fair bit left.

“You know, you are right. I guess I’m so accustomed to House eating half my lunch, that I didn’t realize that I was expecting someone else to eat half of my fries and part of my sandwich.” He then laughs nervously a few times before he begins to blush. As he continues to blush, you realize it may have revealed a bit more about himself than he wanted to. You decide to not follow up on the comment that House eats half of his lunch, but it does explain why House screamed about their “love” when he confronted Wilson. You realize it will only be a matter of time that House will figure out that you are seeing Wilson so, you will have to deal with him again.

But right now, is the not the right time for that. You decide to deflect your thoughts and you look as the waitress has brought a dessert menu. With the dreary weather, you can’t help but think a dessert would hit the spot. You order a brownie with some raspberries and melted fudge on top, even though Wilson is still nibbling on his fries, and he indicates that he doesn’t mind. The next time the waitress passes by he lets her take his plate even though a few of the fries remain.

She returns with the brownie with hot melted fudge oozing off the top and there are tons of fresh raspberries on top. Of course, she sets down two spoons, so you have no “choice” but to share it. You take a spoon and Wilson watches you carefully as you break off a piece making sure to get ample fudge as well as raspberry on the piece. It is warm, delicious and not too sweet, nor heavy. It is a really damn good brownie. 

“It is really good. You should try it.” You gesture with your spoon at him and he hesitantly reaches forward and then tastes it for himself. He smiles as he chews it and a little of the fudge begins to run down his chin and he’s got the look of a kid in an old-fashioned sweets shop. Before, you go to have another bite, you awkwardly and politely try to point out that he’s got some chocolate on his face. 

“You um,” you pause as you point towards your chin, “have a bit of fudge running down your chin.” And he immediately glances back and forth to see if anyone else has seen it as he grabs his napkin to dab it gently at his face where you are pointing. He looks serious as he asks, “Did I get it?” and you can confirm that his chin is now clean. The two of you then finish off the rest of the dessert as the waitress drops off the check. She tells you that it is no rush, but you both glance to see the lobby is now packed with people, so they likely want your table soon. Wilson of course grabs the check before you can even see it and he’s handing her his credit card with it the next time she glides by.

You sigh full of food and content, “Thanks for lunch, it was delicious. I guess I should head home after this, errands to run, laundry to be done and all that good stuff.” You smile as he beams back at you, but he looks a little sad that you’ll have to part ways. “You’re welcome. It was a wonderful time yesterday.” Wilson replies with such honesty that it stirs something in you. The waitress has now returned with his card and the bill, and he completes the merchant copy, then he fills in the customer copy and folds it up and places it in his wallet. With that, the two of you stand up and put your winter coats on and he lets you go first as he follows with a gentle hand on your lower back. The weather looks even more grey as you can see now that it is lightly raining. At least you have your umbrella and Wilson pulls a small one out of his coat pocket. Thankfully it is only a block to his place.

Unfortunately, this turns out to be wishful thinking on your part, as soon as the two of you are no more than 10 feet from the café, it begins to pour in buckets where the water splashes back with a vengeance. And then it begins to come in at a diagonal angle, defeating the entire purpose of either of your “G-rated” umbrellas. Wilson makes a rather shocked and feminine yelp in response to it. You can only shout, “Run!” as the two of you try your best to dash back to his condo building. Normally, running would potentially help, but in this case it is meaningless; it soaks through your coat, your jeans, even it begins to soak into your boots. 

By time you have entered the lobby of his building you are both almost soaked to the underwear and the water is quickly forming small lakes at both of your feet. “Shit! I’m soaked!” is all that you can say as your hair is plastered to your face and it is freezing. “Okay, let’s get up to my place, we both need to shower now, and I can put your clothes in the washing machine and then dryer.” Wilson is fussing over both of you as his hair once impeccably styled hair has been smashed onto his head and certain bits are attempting to pop up. He quickly leads you up to his third floor place and unlocks the door to reveal a small foyer that leads to an open living room and dining area. Both of you pull off your soaked footwear and he takes both of your coats and hangs them up over the door mat at the entrance. 

He leads you to the bathroom that has a shower and towels stocked in it as well as soap, shampoo and conditioner. “Go ahead and hop in the shower, just toss your wet clothes on the floor for right now, I’ll wash yours with mine. I’ll try to find something for you to wear in the meantime.” Wilson is completely in charge and you just follow what he says and he’s already scurried off someplace else before you’ve even had time to register completely that you are in the bathroom. Your clothes are drenched and even some of your underwear got wet – gross! Thankfully, you are able to warm up quickly with the shower and you do a quick shampoo and condition as the rainwater has made your hair and skin sticky. By time you have washed everything you can feel yourself warming up again and you wrap yourself up in the fluffy but understated light blue towels in the bathroom. You wrap one towel around your hair while you are able to dry yourself off with the other and then wrap it all around yourself.

There is a quick knock at the door and even as you are answering yes, Wilson has poked his head in. “Hey, I think if found some clothing, but I need you to take a quick look with me. Are you okay with that?” You nod and follow him from the bathroom into his bedroom. His hair is wet, but he’s now wearing a bathrobe and slippers and a towel around his neck likely from quickly drying his hair. 

He’s laid out some clothing on his bed, there are some wool socks, shorts, a plain t-shirt and a well-worn navy-blue crew neck sweatshirt that looks like it has sat in the bottom of a drawer for sentimental reasons. You immediately throw on the socks which come up to your calves but are warm and the shorts are huge but you can tie the drawstring enough to keep them on your hips. Wilson is hanging back and trying to not look at you as you pick up the t-shirt. It is just a basic white shirt and it is so large compared to anything that you wear but you are going to get cold soon. You turn your back to Wilson and drop the towel around your body and put it on. It is thin, soft cotton and it smells like a mix of his light floral fabric softener and his musky and spicy; like him. With the shirt on, you turn back to him as he’s looks a little bit flustered and you put the massive sweatshirt on, which isn’t quite as large as you were expecting. 

“I’ve had that since college and it definitely doesn’t fit me anymore, and I wore it much tighter than my shirts today.” he explains the sweatshirt to you. It is so large that your hands are covered by the cuffs, so you have to roll them back to make use of your hands but hey, at least you have clean and dry clothes on. He can’t seem to take his eyes off of you, wearing all of his ill-fitting old clothing and he finally snaps out of it.

“Thanks, these aren’t ideal, but they will do.” You feel very embarrassed as you have become a total trope, the woman wearing a man’s clothing that is many sizes too large. Yet at the same time there is something special about being the trope. He nods and then asks you if you can grab your clothing from the bathroom and bring it into the kitchen, the washer and dryer are in the corner there. You then turn to grab the clothes and also hang up the used towels to dry.

* * *

Wilson is trying his best to stay focused. Everything has gone so well since his date yesterday. The swing dance lessons, with the cute little dinner were thoughtful; combined with his own plan of ‘dress and dance to impress' lead it being an overwhelming success. 

The three-piece suit was the finishing touch and he is relieved that his dry spell has finally come to an end. It was good sex, not mind-blowing sex, but good, basic vanilla sex; he has personally come to the conclusion that solid vanilla sex gets a bad rap too frequently now. As you get older, you start to be thankful for when you are able to have decent sex than worry about if it is the best or it is innovative or exciting as possible. He’s been single for the past few years it just hasn’t been what he was used to in the past.

Right now, he’s toweling off his hair for the _second_ time today as they got caught in that awful downpour completely soaking them in a single block. He was able to keep his calm by not suggesting that they share the same shower to warm up, as he’d likely want to then have sex in the shower and as tempting as that is to him, he’s got to show some restraint. He is a gentleman. Most of the time.

Since all of her clothes were soaking wet, he had the perfect situation to offer her some of his clothing, none of which would fit her properly. Years of popular culture and the media has drilled it into his simple male brain that this is hot. Thankfully, he was able to get her out of his room and to grab her clothing, giving him time to calm down and pick out some fresh clothing for himself as well. 

He takes a deep breath and runs his hand back through his hair. Casual, he tells himself, pick something as casual and not sexy as possible. . . . he then shuffles over to his drawers and pulls out a pair of warm wool socks, black sweatpants, a fresh light blue t-shirt and maroon crew neck sweater. With a boring unsexy outfit, he begins to towel his hair off thoroughly before deciding if he should style it again. Seeing that he’ll likely shower tomorrow morning before work, he decides against styling it and instead goes into his bathroom and realizes that his blow dryer is still in his car with his overnight bag and suit.

He emerges from the bathroom to find her sitting on his couch in the living room with the towel over her still damp hair. He sees how his well-loved sweatshirt hangs off her one shoulder with an awkward drape and she’s tucked her legs under a blanket on the couch. She looks at him and as she gestures to the washing machine mentions that, “I put all the clothes in the washer, but I waited for you to return before starting it, since I couldn’t find the detergent.” And she then pulls the blanket up a bit more.

“Oh thanks, I’ll take care of that right now.” He replies as he reaches up to the high shelf where he keeps the high efficiency laundry detergent and the liquid softener. He double checks that the volume isn’t too large and moves a few pieces around so that when it starts the cycle, it will run properly with everything evenly distributed. With that, he loads the detergent and softener into the dispenser, and he sets the washer to a regular clean cycle.

“I just realized in our rush that I left my blow dryer in my car. I’ll just pop down the garage really quickly and bring those things back up.”

She snuggles down into the blankets even more and replies with a quick okay.

With that, he slips into a pair of tennis shoes and throws on a light overcoat and he takes the elevator down to the garage. Some of the water has managed to flow into a corner of the garage and everything is saturated by the cold dampness. He uses the fob to open the trunk and he puts his bag over his shoulder and then picks up the suit with his right hand as he closes the trunk with his left. There is the steady sound of drip-drip-drip from a leak in the corner and it echoes throughout the entire garage giving him chill even though he is warm and dry. Thinking about how a cup of hot cocoa would hit the spot he returns to the elevator and heads up to his floor. 

As he opens the door, he yells, “I’m back, if you want to use the blow dryer before me you can.”

She yells that she’s good and he can dry his ‘fancy’ hair first. It makes him chuckle and he pulls out the dryer and is able to dry his hair somewhat effectively, preventing it from becoming that much of a disaster, but it isn’t the most flattering. The warmth of the dryer is heavenly, and he relaxes more before he finally moisturizes his face and hands. He’s got to work hard to maintain his soft caring boyish oncologist image.

He offers the use of the blow dryer again; this time she accepts it as she walks into his bathroom to use it. He returns to his bedroom to unpack his overnight bag. The dirty clothes from yesterday are tossed into his hamper and he returns the toiletries into his bathroom. As far as the suit, he hangs it up to air out and he’ll decide if he takes it to the dry cleaners this week or wait to see if he can go another time wearing it before a proper cleaning. 

Remembering the wet coats, he returns to the foyer and brings them into the regular bathroom that he doesn’t use now that House is back in his apartment; he hangs them up on the shower curtain rod so that they can drip any excess water into the tub. It appears that she also has hung up her used towel on the rack to dry, how considerate.

He hears the sound of the blow dryer stop and she exits his bedroom trying to style her hair with her fingers. It looks messy, but the messiness with the sweatshirt adds to the sex appeal of her appearance. He swallows and takes a deep breath, now is not the time to make another move on her – at least give her a chance to warm up and settle in, as she doesn’t even have underwear on right now . . . and he then smacks himself in the forehead as he is getting himself worked up over her lack of underwear. This is what the media of the 80s has drilled into him. He hates to admit it, but it works.

Wilson lets out an exasperated sigh as he rubs his head with his hands trying to shake off any feelings that are stirring within him. Hot cocoa. Make some hot cocoa. With the mantra of ‘hot cocoa’ he enters his large open lofted kitchen and living room and he goes to the stove to pull out a small saucepan, milk and some fancy hot chocolate mix. “I’m making some hot cocoa, do you want any?” Her head pops up from a cocoon of blankets on his couch to give a reply of, “Sure. Thanks!” before she returns to the blanket cocoon.

He slowly heats the milk and adds in the hot chocolate mix and makes sure to dissolve it completely while not overheating the milk. The small pot is stirred with precision and once he feels that it is sufficiently done, he turns off the stove and pours the steaming liquid into to mugs. With the two hot cups of cocoa, he makes his way over to the couch to sit down next to her snuggled up in her cocoon of blankets and places both mugs down on his coffee table on coasters. She thanks him with a smile, and he settles down next to her and tries to also procure some of the blankets.

As a result of both House’s need to watch vast television programming and his own love of varied shows, he has literally hundreds of channels to choose from, but with the current downpour, the weather channel is his top pick at this moment. The current radar shows more heavy rain for the next few hours and there is also a wind advisory in effect. He’s glad that they weren’t caught out in it for more than a block. After getting the weather updates, he asks if it is okay to change the channel to something like TCM or AMC and she nods along sipping the hot beverage.

He settles on the James Bond marathon on AMC and slowly moves closer to her on the couch until he’s touching her under the blankets and she leans over and rests her head against his shoulder. Just some basic, innocent snuggling on the couch.

* * *

Despite the fact that you have showered, put on clean fresh clothing on loan from Wilson, you are still feeling a little cold. You’ve created a giant bundle of blankets on his couch and you simply sit there while he appears to do things here and there in the apartment.

Eventually he pops back into the living room/kitchen area and you tell him that you put your soaked clothing into the washer but couldn’t find the detergent and softener. He of course starts the wash cycle for you and then goes down to his car to get his hair dryer. Once he returns with the dryer, he offers for you to use it first, but as your hair is still wrapped in the towel, you let him dry his ‘fancy’ hair first. Once he’s done you are able to dry yours as well leaving the warmth of the blanket pile and you quickly return to it.

Unfortunately, your hair does not agree with blow dryers, so, it is a bit of a mess and the best you can do with no tools or products is to try to style it with your hands to a varying amount of success. You catch Wilson looking at you as you try to style your hair with your hands before he turns away with a bit of a blush and starts muttering something to himself as he walks over to the kitchen. You have returned to your comfortable blanket heaven and you feel it envelop you.

He’s digging around in the cabinets and he finally speaks. “I’m making some hot cocoa, do you want any?” You poke your head up from the blankets and reply, “Sure. Thanks!” and then you dive back into the blankets.

You hear some movement in the kitchen as he pulls out items and then sets to making the cocoa. At least ten to fifteen minutes later, you hear him turn off the stove burner with a light click and he walks over to the couch. With a softness, he places two mugs on the coffee table on coasters and sits down next to you.

You smile as you thank him for the hot cocoa, based on how long it took and there was no boiling kettle, he must have done it with milk. As you reach out and take a sip, he’s slowly making his way under the blankets next to you on the couch as he turns on his large flat screen TV to the weather channel.

It looks like even without your clothing out of the washer and dryer yet, the terrible weather is going to continue for the next few hours and there is a high wind advisory in effect. After getting the most up to date weather, Wilson flips to the schedule and speaks, “Hey, do you mind if I just pick something, I’m thinking TMC of AMC for a classic movie.” 

You nod to him while taking a sip of the fancier than you’d make hot cocoa. There is a James Bond marathon on AMC, so he puts that on and he moves closer to you under the blankets. After a few minutes and some really 'subtle' moves he’s now touching you. You feel how warm he is and you snuggle up to him and lean your head onto his shoulder.

As you get comfortable, you feel your body relax and he also sighs and the little bit of tension he had leaves and you both silently watch the second half of “Doctor No”. Both of you are content just sitting next to someone with no motivation besides basic physical contact. The stress and anticipation of yesterday’s events are leaving both of your bodies and it feels nice. Sure, it was great going to the dance lesson, dinner and dance and then the sex was great but now you can just relax. The sound of the wind occasionally rattles the windows with some rain but it just is a bit of white noise in the background.

The washing machine plays a quick little tune as it announces the end of the cycle and Wilson gently extracts himself from under the blankets and moves all of the freshly washed clothing to the dryer and he starts the machine and both of you make quick trips to the bathroom before returning to the couch. Next up is “From Russia with Love” and this time, Wilson has repositioned himself on the right arm of the couch and you are able to put a throw pillow on his lap and you get comfortable across his lap as he gently places his left hand along your side. 

It is clear that the two of you have seen this movie many times, so you make little comments here and there as you just relax. All of a sudden about an hour into the movie, the power goes out and both of you are jolted out of your warm, fuzzy, bubble. It is grey and dusky already due to the overcast weather, but it has left the room much darker. Wilson looks a little worried as he then gasps, “Oh crap, the dryer. I need to see if things are dry enough or if I should pull them out to dry.”

He gets up in a rush and you ask him where he keeps his flashlights or candles. While he pulls out the clean laundry, he replies, “I’ve got some candles in the shelf over the fridge, I’ll get them in just a minute – ah man, the laundry is still a bit damp.” And with that he scurries off to the spare bedroom and comes out with a drying rack. He sets it up next to a radiator and then carefully hangs all of the clothing on it making sure that everything is not touching to help it dry faster. Using his height and long reach, he pulls out a few candles and sets one up on the kitchen island and a few on the coffee table and he lights each one. 

Just then your phone pings, and you see that there is a notification, there are several trees down in your neighborhood and some are on the power lines. Crews are on their way to remove the trees but until they can clear the area your street is closed. As you are reading, the message, Wilson’s phone begins to ring, and he answers it.

“House.” he then paces as he listens to whatever House is saying and begins to ruffle his hair with his right hand as he holds the phone with his left to his ear. “No, I currently don’t have power here either so I can’t help you out.” he fidgets a bit as he’s brought his right hand to his forehead. “What about not having power don’t you get? If you don’t have power and I don’t have power we are both stuck without power.” 

Wilson sighs as he’s listening to House, “And how are you going to get to my place if your road is blocked by fallen trees?” he is clearly agitated and pacing and begins to gesticulate with his right hand each time he replies to House. “Oh, so you want me to drive close enough to your place so that you can walk to my car, getting soaked in the process just so you can have me drive you to my place?” He finally stops pacing and his voice becomes quite stern, “I am not coming to pick you just so you can come back to my place. You can sit in the dark at your own apartment! You aren’t 6 and there are no monsters under the bed.” and with that Wilson hangs up on the call, sighs with such exasperation that you are certain that he feels bad that he snapped at his best friend as he then hangs his head.

Finally, he realizes that you’ve been watching him during the phone call, and he sighs one last time. You head back over to the couch and get under the blankets before speaking. “I got a text notification, there are downed trees and powerlines all around my neighborhood and I can’t enter it currently. It seems that your friend House lives close to me, so he’s definitely stuck, and you told him the right thing.” As you reassure him, you pat the blankets and the spot next to you on the couch and make a subtle gesture for him to come join you can you feel yourself blush as you try to be flirty. 

His House related anxiety dissipates, and he comes back over to the couch and the two of you lay down on the couch and you snuggle up next to him. You are feeling sleepy and you snuggle up to his chest as he lets out a deep breath. “I guess there isn’t much we can do right now. If I can’t get back home in the next few hours, I’ll call the building manager and ask him to feed Keith some supper. Until then, I think our best course of action is to take a nice nap.” Wilson plants a soft kiss on the top of your messy hair and his right arm pulls you close and the two of you drift off to sleep. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah so much fluff. I need this much fluff in my life right now and I hope do too.


	6. back to work

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stuck having to spend the night at Wilson's place due to a strong rainstorm, you get the full Wilson hospitality experience. But with Monday approaching another work week starts and Wilson does his best to keep House on his toes.
> 
> You settle into a routine as you learn more about Wilson. 
> 
> And House, well House is himself along with Chase, Foreman, Thirteen and Taub.
> 
> Lastly, Keith is adorable and everyone should love and appreciate his greatness. Remember what they say, "dogs have owners and cats have staff."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> House continues to figure out what is up with Wilson as his team diagnoses a new patient. 
> 
> I apologize in advanced for the half-assed medical writing, but I'm not that kind of doctor. I really find how House and his team interact to be more interesting that the biological functions underlying most of their cases.
> 
> This chapter spiraled out of control, so I had to cut it off at the halfway mark, so there will definitely be a chapter 7.

You’ve fallen asleep in your blanket cocoon with Wilson when all of a sudden, he sits up in a panic. He exasperatedly says “Oh shit, I left the candles unattended!” and he’s almost leapt off the couch, but then gets tangled up and falls on the floor awkwardly.

“Are you okay?” You look at him as his messy hair is the first thing you see as he sits up.

“Yeah, I’m okay. Just need to get a few things.” He then walks back to into one of the other rooms and he emerges with two flashlights, a battery powered lamp and places them on the coffee table before he blows out all of the candles.

With much safer sources of illumination, he returns to your warm blanket pile and you can help but think how adorable his, well neurotic attention to detail and safety is. He snuggles up to you and you resettle yourself so that you can rest your head on his chest and he wraps his left arm around your back. It is so nice just, but being here and despite his candle panic attack, the sound of the rain and wind in the late afternoon lull you both back to sleep.

You feel heavy but warm as you begin to wake up, disoriented. It feels like someone is nuzzling the back of your neck, maybe Keith is licking you to get you to feed him. . . wait a second, Keith doesn’t have hands and you feel a hand gently stroking your waist. . . and you are definitely on a couch in a dark room you don’t recognize. Right as you realize that you are lying on Wilson’s couch in the dark, a contended sound of ‘hhhhmmmmm’ marks the end of the nuzzling of your neck and you turn to face Wilson. You can barely see anything in the dark and he shifts to accommodate your movement and settles on top of you.

“Awake?” he asks this even though he clearly knows that answer.

“Yes.” You answer and he readjusts himself so that he can lay his head down on your chest and you place one hand on his upper back and the other on his head feeling his thick, messy hair between your fingers.

“Any idea what time it is?” you ask him as he sighs, and you can’t stop playing with his messy hair absent mindedly. He sighs and his entire body seems to relax before he mumbles a reply half into your chest, “I dunno. I could get up and check my phone, but it is so far away on the kitchen counter. . . and it is so warm and comfy here.”

You hum in agreement before speaking, “It certainly is cozy here, but I need to call the building manager to make sure Keith is fed.”

“Oh yes, that is important. But, once you are done, you have to return to the cozy, blanket cocoon.” Wilson says this he reaches his left hand out to the coffee table and grabs hold of a flashlight, turns it on and then hands it to you.

You grab the flashlight while he let’s you get up. The much cooler air of the apartment has a dampness and you can still hear some rain hitting the windows, but the winds seem to have died down. Once you have your phone, you are able to determine that it is only 7:30pm. Thank goodness you think before you tell Wilson it is 7:30. 

As it is much earlier than you thought, calling the building manager isn’t an issue. After talking to her, she agrees to feed Keith supper and she informs you that it looks like things will be cleared by tomorrow morning at the latest. You aren’t sure how you’ll get to work yet tomorrow morning, hopefully you can have Wilson drop you off early tomorrow at your place and you can go from there.

“So, everything taken care of for Keith?” You are jolted from your thoughts by Wilson as he’s gotten up and is lighting the candles again as he walks over to his fridge.

“Yes, the building manager will feed him supper tonight. Not sure what I’ll do about work tomorrow morning.” You watch as Wilson roots around in the fridge with a flashlight in hand as he pulls out some items; milk, butter and some baby carrots.   
  
“I can drop you off at your place tomorrow morning before work, I’m sure it will be clear by then.” Wilson says this as he smiles and turns back to his pantry and pulls out a box of Kraft Mac & Cheese. “One of the few advantages of having a gas stove – I can still cook somethings.” And with that he’s set to making some box mac and cheese. Watching him cook college student survival food, you all of a sudden realize that you are hungry, it has been a long time since lunch before you were soaked by the storm.

“It isn’t my best example of the depth or breadth what I can cook, but it works.” Wilson is smiling to himself more than at you, he’s no longer trying to impress you with his skills, he’s showing that he’s hungry and being practical. 

The two of you sit down at his kitchen counter and enjoy a supper of macaroni and cheese with some baby carrots to make it healthier. Just because you are eating like undergraduates doesn’t mean you have to devolve completely. As Wilson cleans up the dishes, you walk over to the windows to see that the rain seems to be letting up. It looks like it is now just a matter of time waiting for the utility crews to clear the trees and repair the lines. 

“Looks like the storm is finally letting up.” You say this as you turn to see him washing all of the dishes in the sink by candlelight. He didn’t even ask for help, he just automatically started on the dishes. “Do you need me to help?” you feel guilty for not noticing earlier, but Wilson turns to you with a soft smile as he holds a sponge in his hand and the pot in the other.

“Don’t worry about it, I’m sure you can make it up to me.” Wilson says this with a flourish as he cocks his head to the side while the rest of him is frozen with the sponge and pot in hand over the sink. 

“Oh, like drying the dishes? I can do that.” You say this with a smirk as you walk up to him and pull a dish towel off of a hook and pick up a bowl from the dish rack to dry it.

He then playfully bumps his hip into your side, “Is that what you younger folks are calling it now?”

Such words require an immediate response from you; you nudge him back with your hips, which make contact with his thighs, “Just because, I’m not forty doesn’t mean I’m **‘that’** young.” The two of you then begin to flirt by nudging each other back and forth as you dry the dishes and he places the pot in the rack to dry overnight.

Once done dealing with the dishes, you let out a giant yawn. How can you still be so tired with the nap? Oh yeah, yesterday was an intense day. Wilson wraps his arm around your shoulders and as he leads you out of the kitchen. “I think it is time to call it a night. I think I’ve got a toothbrush you can borrow.” He speaks softly as you find yourself being guided to the bathroom and he pulls out anything you might need, face wash, toothpaste, a virgin unopened toothbrush and then leaves you to wash up and get ready for bed with a flashlight.

Once done you make your way to his bedroom. He’s changed into pajama pants and taken off the sweater and is only wearing a t-shirt as he sits on the edge of the bed. The battery powered lamp is on, and it illuminates the room with that odd artificial glow. He’s got something in his hands that he is winding? As you get closer you see that he has an analog folding travel alarm clock which he is winding and clearly setting the alarm for.

You gasp a little louder than you mean to and he looks up at you with a slightly furrowed brow. “I haven’t seen one of those in years – er, I mean I haven’t seen one since I was a kid.” As soon as it is out your mouth, you regret it. You have just dated yourself as well as Wilson.

He cocks his head as he briefly looks disappointed before he speaks, “One of the few possessions that I have kept with me since undergrad. I know it makes me old, but hey when the power is out, you still need to get up for work on time.” With that he finishes setting the clock and places it on his nightstand. “Come on, let’s get to bed, I set it to go off at 6:45 so I can get you back to your place in time to change and head to work.” He swings his legs up onto the bed and nods his head indicating that you should join him.

You take off the sweatshirt and placing it on his dresser, unsure of where his dirty clothes hamper is so you get into bed. Once you are settled under the covers, he leans over to turn off the lamp and the two of you are enveloped by natural darkness. 

“The alarm clock was my dad’s before I ‘borrowed’ it in high school. He had upgraded to a fancy digital clock radio and I liked this one.” Wilson says this to you in the darkness before he rolls over to you and curls up around you. “So, what I’m trying to say is, who in your family had one? I’m not that much older than you.”

You sigh as his right arm wraps gently around your waist and you can feel his breath on your neck. “It was my mom’s. When I was in either the first or second grade, I wanted to be all mature and adult, so she let me use her old flip travel alarm clock. I can’t even remember how long I used it for since it couldn’t have been all that long . . .” Wilson softly laughs as he pulls you closer.

“Always been a mature person even as a first grader. That’s adorable.” Wilson says this barely above a whisper as he has begun to lightly kiss your right ear and he moves your hair out of the way to begin to kiss your neck. You feel yourself melting under his touch and his right hand begins to meander finding the hem of his old t-shirt and slipping underneath.

His warm fingers lightly ghost over your skin and you suddenly seem more awake. You turn to face him even though you can barely see anything, it doesn’t stop you from moving in for a kiss. He immediately senses your change in position, and he rolls over so that he’s above you and his left hand reaches out to gently touch the side of your face as he kisses you so slowly that it seems like he’s stretching out time. You reach up and place your left hand in his messy hair while your right lands on his back. As you run your hand through his hair, he deepens the kiss and a hhmm emanates from deep in his throat before he finally pulls back a little. Taking a breath, he sighs as though he’s clearing out everything from his conscience. He caresses the side of your face with his left hand and then speaks, “You have no idea how badly I’ve wanted you since you put on that old oversized and ill-fitting sweatshirt. I know it is cliched, but it is hot.”

You are so glad that you are in the pitch dark; you can feel the blush spreading across your face, but you still instinctively are moving your hands to cover your face. It is yet another compliment from him and you can’t believe it based on how he goes above and beyond. His hands reach out to grab yours and he holds them over your face. “Hey, there. There is no reason to be embarrassed, you look good and you need to learn to take a compliment.” He says this with such earnestly that you know he’s not lying to you as his warm hands just hold yours gently, reassuringly. 

“I know, I just, it is hard to take a compliment when you’ve worked so hard to have a career where you want someone to judge you based on your skills and not your looks.” You instinctively say this as you turn your head to the side on the pillows as you know he’s right. 

He’s still holding your hands as he begins to caress them with his thumbs getting them to relax. “Here, let me give you a hug. Not as a doctor, not as someone with a career, or years of training. Just as another person who like you as a person.” He waits a few seconds and releases your hands and you reach up to wrap them around him and he envelopes you in an all-encompassing hug. It it such a release as you let go and you stop thinking.

Your body relaxes as the hug continues; you finally feel warm again after everything and he begins to nuzzle your neck with his nose and his fingers begin to roam along your back over the thin t-shirt. You can feel his neatly trimmed fingernails as he moves in for another kiss and this time it is full of intention and you moan. His hands begin to sneak under the shirt, and you wrap your legs around him. The entire time you have to go on touch as you can’t see a damn thing and it heightens how everything feels. The difference between cotton t-shirts and skin makes it even better as you let him take the lead.

* * *

After a rather intimate time, both of you are exhausted and you barely have the energy to stumble off to the bathroom via flashlight before crashing in bed.

The shrill sound of an alarm pierces your sleep and you jump up in bed thinking it is a fire alarm before you realize it is an alarm clock. Thankfully, Wilson has also woken up and is fumbling to turn it off. The room is still dark, but this time a soft glow is coming from the bathroom, it must be a nightlight. And if the nightlight is working the power is back on. As you are taking things in, he snuggles up to you and mumbles a “G’morning.” As his hands move to your waist. With the dim light from the bathroom you are able to turn to him and you lean in to kiss him before you sit up and give him a good smack on the side. He makes an unexpected yelp in response and you smirk back.

“Morning, and I need to get dressed so I can get to work on time today.” And with that you get out of bed grabbing a t-shirt to cover the bare minimum. You head to the living room to see if your clothing from yesterday is dry; everything is good except your sweater still a little damp and you realize it was good the power was out since it had been in the dryer. You leave the sweater on the drying rack and grab everything else, underwear, socks, jeans and your t-shirt.

With your clothing in hand, you head to the main bathroom, “I’m hopping in the shower! Everything is dry save for my sweater.” You hear a muffled response as Wilson says he’s going to put the coffee on and get ready as well. The only surprise is that you find both of your coats hanging up along the shower curtain rod which appear to have also dried off mostly. You take both out and hang them on the back of the bathroom door so that you can shower and get ready.

Once showered and dressed, you wrap your hair in a towel and head to the kitchen. The coffee is ready, and Wilson had pulled out some bread, peanut butter and jelly for some toast it appears with two plates and some knives and spoons for the spreads. As you are eating some toast with peanut butter and drinking the coffee, he comes out fully dressed for work but with damp hair and a towel around his neck. You thank him for the coffee and toast, and he smiles and nods as he pours himself a cup of coffee and puts some bread in the toaster. His clothing selection is rather muted today, a black suit, a cream colored, dress shirt with very pale-yellow stripes and a black tie. 

“I see most of your clothing dried off. Sorry, about your sweater, I forgot I had put it in the dryer, but I guess it worked out for the best to air dry.” Wilson says this between bites of toast with strawberry jelly and sips of coffee. He seems to be on a timeline to make sure you get out of his place quickly. You tell him you are going to go blow dry your hair and you are borrowing the sweatshirt until you get home to change into another sweater for work. Just as you finish drying your hair, he’s entered his bathroom ready to deal with styling his hair. He gives you a gentle touch on your shoulder before he smiles and speaks. 

“Hey, can you do me a favor? There are two thermoses in the kitchen in the cabinet over the stove. Pour the rest of the coffee into both of them so I can take them to work this morning.” He seems a little concerned but for the most part organized as he makes this request. “Sure.” You reply and you are out of his bathroom and he turns on the blow dryer to finish up getting ready. The sweatshirt you borrowed from him is still on the dresser so you put it on as you head to the kitchen and retrieve the two thermoses; one is a newish looking silver and grey spill proof travel container, while the other has clearly seen better days and looks to be from the early 80s at the newest with a plaid pattern. The bottom of the older thermos has writing on the bottom that in black marker that has partially rubbed off in all capital letters; “G[r]eg Hou[s]e”. Based on the fading, he may have written that on his thermos in middle or high school . . .

After removing the lids, you fill up both containers with the hot coffee and cap and seal them making sure there are no leaks. You pour the remaining coffee into your cup and finish it off as you hear the blow dryer stop and notice that the digital clock over the stove has already been reset to the proper time 7:30. Wilson certainly doesn’t miss the small details. He walks quickly back into the kitchen where you are sitting on the stool checking your phone for any important emails from work. His hair is impeccably styled and he sees the two thermoses ready to go. He leans in and give you a quick peck on the cheek, “Thanks for pouring the coffee. I don’t want to rush you, but I’ve got to pick up House to take him into work this morning.” 

You reply that it isn’t a problem and you gather up your limited items as you only have your satchel, phone and wallet. Wilson places the thermoses into his briefcase and both of you head down to the parking garage and then he’s on his way to your place. The morning is cold and damp after the storm, with leaves, tree branches and random debris in the streets, but the sun is beginning to break through the clouds. Wilson parks his car on your street and he walks you up to your place as the two of you chat about what you need to get done today. As soon as you place your keys into your door, Keith is meowing loudly at you. As soon as you open the door, he’s walked out into the hallway and is crying out to you to be fed breakfast. He rubs up against Wilson’s and your legs as he turns to you to say good bye. 

The two of you hug and then Wilson kisses your cheek and he’s heading back down the hallway to the exit, “I’ll call you this evening. Have a good one.” He says this as he looks back at you before he’s in the stairwell. You reply, “You too!” and with that you enter your apartment to feed the starving beast. 

Keith is relieved as you scoop kibble into his bowl and you replace the water in his dish. Once he’s taken care of, you quickly pull out another sweater to throw on over your t-shirt and you transfer things into your messenger bag for work and you are out the door as you say tell Keith bye and for him to not burn the house down while you are gone. You walk down the hallway to the back stairs and back to the off street parking and you are on the road to work at 7:50. On the way to work, you see tons of broken tree debris in your neighborhood and at the end of your street there is a huge trunk of all that remained of a large tree which clearly feel across the street and took out the power lines. Traffic is a little lighter than normal so other people must be in the same boat as you are coming from neighborhoods that were severely impacted by the storm last night. The drive to work is uneventful and you are able to settle into things with little issue.

* * *

House is out cold as the battery back-up in his alarm clock hasn’t been replaced since 1997 and with the power outage and subsequent restart, the time currently reads 10:27(pm). He doesn’t hear the sound of his door opening, nor the rapid steps of Wilson in his living room. 

“House! Are you awake?” Wilson speaks loudly with a twinge of concern in his voice as he heads for the bedroom. He sighs in relief as he hears a grumble from House’s bedroom and finds him in bed just barely awake. “Come on House. Time to get up and go to work, your next patient is coming down for New York remember?” 

House becomes recalcitrant on purpose, upon realizing that his best friend has indeed come, to ‘rescue’ him albeit more than half a day later than he had wanted. He pretends to roll over in his sleep and puts a pillow over his head as he mumbles, “Mom, I don’t waaaaant to go to school. I’ve got a doctor’s note.” Despite his best efforts, he can feel Wilson’s presence guiltily telling him to get up and he knows that Wilson will not give up until he’s got House at work at a reasonable hour. He also knows that once, he starts to work on his new case, he’ll be hooked since the preliminary differential had him intrigued on Friday, he just couldn’t let his fellows know it yet. 

He sighs loudly as he pulls the pillow off his head and sits up to see Wilson hovering over him. “I’d normally be the one to write the doctor’s note for you, but I know you are interested in this new case. Come on, I’ll give you a ride, the roads are finally cleared.” Wilson is smiling softly and he knows that this is his ‘thank goodness House is still alive’ look; a look that deep down cuts into House deep but he’d never admit it to Wilson.

“Okay, okay. I’m up, let me hop in the shower and get dressed.” House pulls his awkward self out of his messy bed and limps his way to his bathroom. After a toilet flush, the shower turns on and Wilson heads to his kitchen to see if there is anything edible for House for breakfast. Thankfully, there are some muffins that he appears to have baked from scratch, one of the added bonuses from House’s cooking addition phase post-rehab. In a way, he’s glad that his obsessive cooking has abated due to his return to work, but at the same time it is good to see him putting his energies into something constructive and that fills the need that the Vicodin once did for him.

A freshly showered House emerges from the bathroom and he gets dressed in his usual, jeans, graphic t-shirt, a wrinkled yet thankfully clean button-down and a fitted suit jacket. “Okay Mom, since you don’t believe me about the doctor’s note, you will have to give me lunch money.” And with that House makes his faux-pouty face and Wilson rolls his eyes before responding. “Sure, lunch is on me today.”

And with that, the two of them begin to have idle chit-chat about House’s next case as they exit the apartment to his car. Wilson automatically, hands House the muffin which Wilson had put in a small brown lunch bag after he’s locked the front door. On cue House accepts the muffin automatically. Once in the car, House tries to mess with the radio and the two of them spend half the time arguing about what is better commuting radio programming. House insists that the classic rock station gives him the energy he needs to start his day, while Wilson counters that Morning Edition on NPR gives him the ‘right’ amount of news that he needs for the day.

Thanks to Wilson’s ‘House herding’ he’s gotten him to the Department of Diagnostic Medicine’s office by 8:50am and he lastly hands off his so-retro-that-it-must-be-hip-now thermos full of coffee. House grunts in thanks and Wilson heads to his own office to start his morning paperwork and double checking his rounds for tomorrow.

The rest of the Diagnostics team, except for Taub who is off on morning clinic duty, are getting things ready for the celebrity photographer patient who arrives at 11am. Foreman and Chase are double checking if the equipment that they had reserved for today is unaffected by the power outage, as they sip on their morning coffees and Thirteen is looking up any other pertinent information on PubMed as she had a random thought while showering this morning and figured it wouldn’t help to it up while they had some down time.

With his thermos and muffin bag in his hand, House walks from his office into the main team office to sit down and see where things are at. “I see Wilson got you here to work on time despite the power outage.” Chase says this as he takes a sip of coffee and House slumps down into his chair at the head of the table.

“Who needs an alarm clock when you have a Wilson.” House makes a weird facial expression as he opens the thermos and pours himself the coffee into the cap and he begins to eat the muffin. As House begins to feel more alive with the coffee and muffin, he tries to have some small talk with the team before they get busy with the new patient. Of course, it goes through the House filter so it comes out a little rough. . .

“Anyone get laid this past weekend?” House asks it as Thirteen chokes on her coffee while highlighting part of a journal article that might be useful, Foreman rolls his eyes with only a skill reminiscent of Wilson and Chase appears oddly indifferent to the question as Chase is likely to do when he’s trying to hide something.

“So how long was your power out for?” Thirteen asks this to House completely deflecting attention from herself. “Mine was out until about midnight.” She says this to get the ball rolling and Foreman adds to the distraction, “Mine never actually went out. Though it looks like a good portion of the Historic district had a lot of downed trees.” House is annoyed by the united Thirteen-Foreman front, so his only option is to pester his ‘son’. 

House beings to bait Chase, “My power went out at around 4pm. I called Wilson to see if I could hang out at his place, but he only argued back that his power was out and he couldn’t get to my place due to the trees. What about you Chase?”

Chase fidgets so slightly that a normal person wouldn’t even pick up on it, but House has known him for over six years, so he knows all of his tiny mannerisms. “Oh.” Chase says this with a slight undertone of surprise and understanding. “My power was out the same as Thirteen’s and came back on at the same time as hers.” House then begins to chase after the “Oh” that was proceeded by the Chase ‘fidget’. “You had mentioned going out with a nurse on the weekend. Is that why you didn’t respond to my previous comment about getting some action?” House says this with a huge smirk followed by his large obvious wink.

Chase sighs and glances to around, “Just because, you and Wilson think I’m attractive and I hang out with some of the nurses doesn’t mean I’m doing all of them. I’m sure – _**someone**_ – here at PPTH got laid over the weekend, but I’m not answering your question to feed your 16 year old ego inside.” With that Chase stands up, “I’ve got to go see if the standards for the lab tests I ordered on Friday afternoon have arrived.” He turns from the table and is out the door with no other words and his white coat almost flaps from the force of his exit. Foreman and Thirteen look at him in shock while House is disappointed that he didn’t get any additional information from him. Bummer!

House tries to get any useful information to amuse himself out of Foreman and Thirteen, but they are actually doing their jobs and when Taub is done with his clinic shift, the patient has arrived and House leaves his team to do the initial intake and they begin their battery of tests. As he is folding a paper airplane from some paperwork in regard to sexual harassment, Wilson walks into his office and utters the single word that always pleases House, “Lunch?”

House gets up with his cane and the two of them head down to the cafeteria. Wilson appears hungrier than usual getting a grilled chicken sandwich with salad and chips as opposed to his usual ruben and fries for a Monday. House goes for a burger and fries and laments at the inability to steal fries from Wilson. “Hungry today?” House asks this as he tries to figure out why someone as organized as Wilson didn’t get his usual breakfast. 

“Oh, yeah, I was in a rush this morning to make sure I made it to your place on time. I only had coffee and toast.” House looks intensely at Wilson; his hair is perfectly styled, so he still had enough time to make sure he looked his usual best. His clothing is muted for him today, very basic. House thinks back to the three-piece vintage suit he had on Friday, Wilson must have worn it somewhere on the weekend, unless his plans were cancelled by the storm yesterday and that was why he was in such a pissy mood and wouldn’t come pick him up so they could sit in the dark together. Maybe Wilson’s plans were cancelled, which likely had something to do with a woman.

“Bummer. I was hoping to hear about some sex filled weekend that prevented you from picking me up yesterday afternoon.” House figures if Wilson’s plans fell through, the least he could do is rub some salt in the wounds. Wilson wipes away some BBQ sauce from the corners of his mouth after polishing off the chicken sandwich and he raises his bushy brown eyebrows. “You only want to know if I had plans, so that you can gloat about the weather effectively cock-blocking me, making me as miserable as you.”

House is intrigued by this Wilson response, he currently can’t read his expression, it was like the one time at lunch where he couldn’t tell if Wilson had slept with Cuddy or not. It both drove him nuts and kept his friendship with Wilson fresh as he honestly had to accept whatever Wilson said to him. Wilson then glanced down at his watch to see that it was almost 1. “I gotta go soon, I need to finish this off.” And with that Wilson sped up his eating and after finishing the salad grabbed the bag of chips to go. “Later House. Tell me about the case when something interesting happens.”

House weeps internally as he was hoping to score the bag of chips, but Wilson’s love of plain fried potatoes lightly salted is a strong one. He took a loud slurp of his fountain drink catching the attention of several old ladies dining near him as Taub and Thirteen came to the table. They update him on the progress of the tests. The EKG and MRI were both normal and they decide to do a treadmill test as the blood work results won’t be known until tomorrow morning. House slinks off to watch the patient from afar as the team have him run on the treadmill, where his performance is, well normal. The weather has cleared up completely by mid-afternoon and the sun lightens House’s mood as the team comes back with full updates and they check things off of the whiteboard.

Foreman reiterates that all of the patient’s results so far are normal and since he isn’t exhibiting anything odd, he suggests letting the man return to New York. House is unsure of what to do, so he tells the team that they should have him stay the night under observation. 

The only thing that they have to go one is that he’s been complaining of exhaustion, yet all of the tests so far show that he’s normal. Sure, he did have some bags under his eyes, but House had done his homework and the man had shot a lot of live concerts and stage performances lately, so he clearly works late nights. 

House gives the team marching orders to let the patient relax and he assigns Chase and Foreman to perform a sleep study, since he knows that out of his team members at least the two of them won’t get up to any funny business. 

He then wanders the hospital killing time and counting the number of people in the lobby who are wearing New Balance shoes as he waits for Wilson’s clinic duty to end and he’ll do his ‘required’ paperwork in directly afterwards before he can get a ride home. At 5, House ambles up to his office, checks in with the team as they assign duties and he tells that he’ll smell them later and he goes to get Wilson. He enters through the main office door and Wilson is on the phone, and he glances up at House while he raises his right hand indicating that he’s almost done. 

“Okay, sounds good. I’ll follow up with you later. Bye.” And with that Wilson puts his phone back on the receiver and he fusses with the oncology files for tomorrow before putting them off to the side of his desk. “How’s the case?” Wilson asks this as he puts his thermos on his desk back into his briefcase and is putting his suit jacket and then coat on as well.

“Interesting in the fact that the case has yielded nothing so far. All of the tests indicate that the man is normal.” House shrugs. “I’ve got Chase and Foreman running a sleep study overnight. The patient’s major symptom is exhaustion, but he’s also a concert photographer who has been shooting some late night gigs recently.” 

Wilson nods along as he shuts his office door behind them as they head towards the elevators. “So, you are intrigued by this case since there is currently nothing wrong with your patient?” Wilson ruffles his hair as they pass by the nurses’ station and House wonders if he’s back to his old habits with the nursing staff again.

“Evening Doctor Wilson!” A cute south Asian nurse greets Wilson as they walk by. “Evening Nurse Sigh.” and the two of them exchange a sort of knowing smile but both continue on their way. House turns to look at her bum as she heads off to the ER and thinks that she is cute but doesn’t seem to be Wilson’s type. She looks too confident with that body language. He waits until they are in the car and Wilson can’t run away from him. 

“She’s quite attractive. I see you are back to your nurse wooing ways.” House says this to Wilson as he’s pulling out of the parking garage and he grins at him before he wiggles his grey eyebrows suggestively. Wilson briefly glances at House out of the corner of his eyes as he turns on his turn signal with crisp precision. “Who’s attractive? Nurse Singh?” Wilson says this as his face is turned away from House as he’s checking for clear traffic to pull out and onto the street. 

Argh, dammit Wilson, House thinks. Always being such a responsible driver, I can’t see your facial expression as you respond to me with questions! “Yes, Nurse Singh!” House says this with an undercurrent of annoyance, “I didn’t see you greet any other nurses on our way out.” And now he’s getting annoyed since Wilson is not responding to this like he’s evading his implications of involvement with Nurse Singh. He tries to think back to instances where he’s seen the two of them interact in the past, but there has been no recent evidence of Wilson consoling her with a box of tissues. . . .

As Wilson drives them safely and within the speed limit back towards House’s apartment he responds to House’s inquiry. “You think, after all of the effort I have put into dating outside of Princeton-Plainsboro, I’d become desperate and break down returning to my ‘easy prey’ of nurses? Come on House, that’s some outdated thinking for you.” Wilson seems to be honest about his statement and he is ignoring the fact that Wilson was the one most keen about speed dating last month. Perhaps, he is getting lazy with his Wilson observations?

“Now Chase on the other hand . . .” and with that Wilson never completes the statement as he pulls House up to his building. “I’ll see you tomorrow at work House.” Wilson smiles at him as House unbuckles himself and extracts himself from the Volvo. “Later Wilson.” And with that House slowly makes his way to his place and Wilson heads back to his condo.

* * *

Your Monday is completely uneventful at work. The most exciting news is everyone comparing if their power went out or not and if their road was closed. At 4:50, your phone begins to vibrate, and you notice a local number that is simply displayed at Princeton-Plainsboro. You hesitantly pick up the phone in the office at your desk. “Hello?”

“Hello, sorry for the call from my office, but I’ve got to take House home today and I’ll likely be busy.” You hear Wilson as he’s already apologizing to you.

“Oh no problem.” Your reply is lame but hey, you had to get up earlier than normal and your morning routine was clearly modified. 

“This week is going to be busy for me, but I’m scheduled for a meeting for the clinical trials at 3:30pm on Friday. It looks like we could meet up for dinner on Friday. You interested?” Wilson seems very calm as he asks.

“Sounds good to me. I’ll look up places that are close to work so we don’t have to fight rush hour traffic.” Now, you have some research to do, but it will help you learn more about things around work which you have been avoiding. “Well, I gotta wrap up some paperwork here, gotta go.” You wrap up the conversation as Wilson then replies, “Okay, sounds good. I’ll follow up with you later. Bye.” With that you hear the click of the phone hitting the receiver and you smile to yourself. . . . another date is scheduled!

You know that Keith is going to be pissed off at you, but you have to swing by the grocery store on your way home since you couldn’t restock all of the non-essentials yesterday. After checking with a few people, they tell you there is a grocery store in a shopping plaza nearby. It isn’t too busy, mainly it looks like it is filled with other people like you doing Sunday errands on a Monday. You find Keith’s brand of kibble and keep this in mind if you need to swing by here again on your way home from work.

It is dusky as you exit the grocery store and you notice there are several small restaurants in the shopping plaza; a small Bistro, sushi place and a Mexican establishment. You make note to look them up on Yelp and Urban Spoon when you get home.

Keith is meowing with such passion as you place your groceries at the door, and you run back to grab another bag from your car. When you finally open the door, he’s needy for some supper and love as you are home about an hour later than normal. His entire routine is off – the horror! After feeding him, you are able put the groceries away and you pull out some soup and bread you picked up at the grocery store as you are starving by this point and you choose poorly at the work café. The regular sandwich with yogurt and banana weren’t enough to meet your caloric needs.

With groceries unpacked and put away in the fridge or pantry, you set up a crock pot for stew tomorrow and place it in the fridge overnight while you start a load of laundry. By time all of your household chores are complete, it is 8:30 and you feel tired. You sit down on the couch with a cup of chamomile tea and turn of the TV to watch some HGTV and Keith comes to join you. The washer/dryer combo beeps letting you know that your first load is dry and you pull yourself up as Keith simply repositions himself on the couch to keep the warmth from where you were just sitting. You hang up all of the shirts, fold the underwear and socks putting them away in your dresser. You’ll have to do the other load tomorrow but it can wait. It is time for bed. With that you take your evening shower and you find Keith waiting for you in your bed and he snuggles up to your bum as you fall asleep quickly.

* * *

Chase sighs exasperatedly in the sleep lab as he tries to make a small fort with basic office products. Foreman, swivels back and forth in his chair as he watches Chase’s dedication to trying to decide what color of sticky bookmark would make the best flag for his fort to fly. Neon yellow, pink or blue?

Foreman breaks the depression of the silence. “You know you are stuck on sleep duty because you pissed House off this morning. Why didn’t you just give him something to work with? You could have lied.” Chase looks up from his fort as he carefully moves his hands away from a structurally unsound tower made up of highlighters.

He looks tired and a bit annoyed by Foreman’s question as though his own snippy remark had some sort of collateral damage effect on Foreman as the ‘sometimes’ second in command of the Diagnostics team when House is usually indisposed due to some sort of self-destructive behavior. Chase looks down once before he returns to meet Foreman’s eyes with a reply, “Look, I know that I’m usually the one of the team that gives House what he wants, but I don’t want him to assume that I’m always hooking up with some pretty nurse since I’ve become single.”

Chase then twists in his chair to look at the sleep monitoring readouts as a chance to think where he’s going with this. “I did go out with one of the nurses on the weekend, that was the truth, but I went out as a friend not as a date.” He turns back to face Foreman who has leaned back in his chair and brought his hands together so that only his fingertips are touching as he looks deep in thought analyzing what Chase said.

Foreman then replies, “If that is the case, why did I get stuck on overnight patient babysitting duty with you?”

“That’s because you ran interference with Thirteen and gave him no useful gossip. You know that he loves to punish you for your ‘I’m above all of this attitude.’” Chase says this with a smirk and he accidentally nudges the desk knocking over his haphazard fortress of office supplies. “Shit. Okay, I’m going to get a coffee. You want anything?”

“I’ll take a coffee. Don’t use the vending machine, I can’t drink the sugar filled stuff that is called 'coffee'. Just make some in the office.” Foreman replies as he knows Chase is right about House. He deflected House’s attempt at learning any team gossip so he can at least request a **_decent_** cup of coffee from Chase. 

With that Chase gets up and in his carefree fashion, strolls back to the office. He checks the time, 1:32am, well it could be worse, they could be doing something else more labor intensive for the patient. Feeling at ease, he fills the coffee maker with the grounds and pours enough water into the machine for 4 cups total. As the coffee brews he heads to the bathroom and gets two mugs with lids since they aren’t allowed open containers in any of the lab facilities. 

“How’s sleeping beauty doing?” Chase asks this as he enters the monitoring room and Foreman, jolts up as he clearly nodded off. “Ergh, sorry.” Foreman meekly apologizes as he rolls his chair over to the computer, which is followed by a “What the hell . . .” as he turns to look at Chase holding the two coffees in his hands at the doorway. Who also now seems concerned as there are no readouts coming from the patient.

“Oh shit!” Chase yells as he drops the two coffees down roughly on the desk and he sprints out to check the room where their patient was sleeping. He pulls open the door to reveal an empty bed and all of the wires and electrodes that were set up to monitor him are scattered about and the bed sheets have been pulled back. Foreman is close behind Chase and now 100% awake, they sprint out of the sleep lab. “You head to security, to see if he’s left the building, I’m heading to the roof and I’ll work my way down from there!” Chase is in command and Foreman runs off to the security office while Chase is racing to the elevator to the top floor and with the roof access. He’s already had to deal with one sleepwalking patient make it to the roof, he doesn’t need a second one.

Thankfully, after a stressful but methodical search, they were able to locate the man in the imaging room with all of the light boxes. He had found an x-ray image that someone had left in the room by accident and he was pondering to himself if it was a good enough image for Rolling Stone or if he should just keep it for a gallery show. Foreman talked with him enough to verify that he was indeed sleepwalking. The two of them walked him back to the sleep lab and realizing that he clearly has some sort of issue with sleepwalking, they then gave him medication to knock him out until morning. The data they had collected was useless as he escaped in the middle of the test. Realizing that House was going to give them hell for letting him sleepwalk away and knowing he’d make them repeat the test tomorrow – er, later today. The two of them admit defeat.

Chase picks up the now cold coffees and Foreman goes to turn the coffee maker off the warm setting; the two of them head to the lounge to get some sleep before the great beratement tomorrow morning.

* * *

Tuesday morning is a beautiful fall day. Wilson wakes up feeling good is able to go through his calm morning routine, able to make oatmeal, and have at least 2 cups of coffee before heading into work. The temperature is definitely staying cooler, but it is clear with few clouds in the sky and the deep blue highlights the leaves turning colors all around town. He has decided to mess with House and is wearing ‘the green silk tie of seduction’ with a navy suit and white dress shirt.

Not surprisingly, with House not getting a ride from him, he’s not in at 8:30 when Wilson walks by Diagnostics. He does see a very rough looking Foreman and Chase wearing the same clothing from yesterday holding onto their coffees with a forlorn expression. Thirteen and Taub are ignoring whatever cloud is hanging over the other two and appear to be having idle small talk. 

He’s able to settle into his office after planting a sacrificial healthy lunch for House and hide his duplicate lunch from detection in Cuddy’s fridge in the Clinic. He has his Tuesday rounds checking in with all of his patients on chemo and for once most of his patients are doing as well if not better than expected. At 11:50, he swings over to House’s office to find him bouncing his ball against the floor as a random x-ray is up on his lightbox. 

“What’s up with the image?” Wilson indicates it with a simple nod of his head towards it, showing off his well styled hair. House stops bouncing the ball to look up at him. “It was bait. The team took an x-ray of our current patient’s arm since he had been complaining it was harder to take steady photos and his arm was feeling weak.”

Wilson raises his eyebrows as he puts his hands on his hips. “And?”

“I made sure that the patient knew that we had our imaging room in the basement and put his own x-ray up so that he could go in search of it.” House says this as he stands up fairly confidently as the weather and his mood seem to have improved.

“Search of it? Aren’t you of all doctors violating patient confidentiality? I mean I’d be shocked to know that it was planted in a semi-public space . . .” Wilson rolls his eyes as he shoves his hands in his pockets and moves towards the office door as he then holds it open for House to follow him out. 

“Our patient is a somnambulist. And hilariously, he escaped from the sleep lab when Foreman nodded off for apparently 10 minutes while Chase was making them a full pot of coffee to stay awake. They are going to have to redo the test tonight, but this time with him restrained to the bed.”

Wilson is nodding along when he realizes that House hasn’t found the hidden lunch, so he’ll have to make up an excuse to go rescue his bait lunch. “Hey, I just realized that forgot to grab my lunch. I’ll meet you at the cafeteria.” He heads to the public lounge where the lunch is and House grunts in reply.

“You can continue to bless me with your genius over lunch how you figured out the man was sleepwalking and how you used him to torture Chase and Foreman.” He says this down the hall just loud enough that if anyone on the team heard him, they’d know the sleep test was a House prank.

After grabbing the lunch Wilson had intended for House to eat, he quickly sprints to the Clinic and grabs the extra one and finds House waiting for him absentmindedly at the start of the queue for the café. “I made some lunch for you as well, if you are interested. Though it would always taste better with a side of fries.” Wilson smiles honestly and House knows that he’s not pulling a fast one on him. He’s figured out that Wilson likes splitting fries and he of course pays for their fountain drinks, a yogurt for Wilson and a packet of peanut M&Ms for House.

The two of them settle into their comfortable position in a corner and House continues how he had figured out the photographer was doing a lot of late night jobs recently he had reported that he went to bed and was sleeping at least 8 hours. The previous doctors had all looked for more flashy things that could lead to exhaustion. Deficiencies of B12 or iron. Caffeine use among other stimulants and whatnot. Yet none of the idiot doctors who saw him before him ever thought to consider that maybe it was the fact that he was just not getting enough sleep or something was disrupting his sleep. Yes, this sounds like an extreme case sleepwalking, but if they could confirm it, they could get to figuring out what was causing it. 

“You going to have Chase and Foreman really try to rerun the test when they are exhausted from already trying to do it once? Wilson asks this with actual concern as the two of them were looking pretty rough this morning. House really is courting another failed test.

House pops a few M&M’s into his mouth before answering. “I’ll give Foreman a break, I was just giving him a hard time for not sharing if his weekend was exciting or not. But Chase is going to have to redo it.”

“Why? What did Chase do to piss you off?” Wilson asks this as he takes a sip of his Dr. Pepper. Oh those 23 flavors he thinks absentmindedly.

House seems legitimately annoyed. “He told me off when he wouldn’t tell me which of the nurses he slept with over the weekend. It is clear he was still bitter from our speed dating bet, that I totally won, but he seemed to indicate ‘someone’ got laid this weekend from PPTH.”

House turns to look around before he continues, “Chase isn’t good at deflection and even though it was clear that Thirteen clearly got some action, he seemed to be much more sensitive about the topic even though he had admitted he was going out with one of the nurses on Friday. Do you think she rejected him, and he’s upset?”

At that point House spots Nurse Singh with Diaz as they enter the line. Wilson makes a little nod to both of them as they make a quick wave back as they continue talking as they get their lunches.

“What was that?” House looks almost shocked at the blatant display of Wilson’s-Wilson-ness and he sees that he’s wearing the tie _**AGAIN**_. 

“What was what?” Wilson looks at him like a puppy that is confused what it just did wrong.

House’s frustration bubbles to the surface, “You just acknowledged not one but two nurses, you are wearing the green tie again, and last night you smiled and greeted one of those two nurses. It is like it is 2004 all over again.”

Wilson remains oddly calm as he leans back in his chair stretching as he the straightens and adjusts his tie. “Well, I got to get back to work. I’ve got some consults with patients starting at 1:30. Good luck on the case House, but maybe go easy on Chase, you seem to forget that when it comes to your family.” Wilson gets up and grabs their empty Tupperware containers and puts them on his tray as he heads out. 

He makes sure to stop by and chat with both nurses to exchange pleasantries briefly before heading up to his office. A quick side glance shows House leaning forward, his bright blue eyes staring straight at him completely perplexed. 

* * *

Tuesday is a busy day for you. Work keeps you on your feet as you learn about a new project you are to start working on and you get trapped in more meetings than you prefer (e.g. one meeting). But the day goes fast, and you are able to wrap up the laundry in the evening. You realize that you have Wilson’s sweatshirt so you toss it in, so that it will be clean when you return it on Friday, but you give it one last sniff before tossing it into the washer. It definitely smells like him and his floral fabric softener.

On Wednesday, you are able to look up the three places you saw in the shopping plaza and ask your co-workers if any of them liked them. Most seemed to refer the bistro or sushi place as they stated the Mexican place was a bit different than most other Mexican places that they had been too, with a lot of heavy food and an obsession with Hatch chiles. You thank them for their input, and also check online for reviews which seem to line up with everyone else’s opinion.

Might as well call Wilson for his opinion, but you aren’t sure if he’s working later or not since he hasn’t called you back. 

You send him a text:

_I have it narrowed down to three different places for dinner on Friday. All seem pretty equal but are quite different; bistro, sushi or New Mexican. Any of these strike your fancy?_

With that your text is off into the ether and you just wait.

A few minutes later, your phone pings, indicating a new text. 

_Whatever one is least crowded that night._ _I’ll give you a call tomorrow morning._

What a rare event! A text message from Wilson. Someone must be around if he’s not calling you back . . . House likely.

* * *

Wilson comes out of the bathroom to the living room to find House tossing a handful of popcorn into his mouth as he smiles in glee at the monster trucks on the screen. 

“That was a longer than normal dump for you. Feeling a bit constipated?” House says this without taking his eyes off of the screen. He knows that Wilson is up to something, but he can’t figure out what it is. . best to play dumb around Wilson. The green tie yesterday may have been a red herring, he spent most of the day trying to watch the ER nurses and the only person from his team who actually interacted with them was Chase and he had even seen Chase and Singh grab some lunch together, where they appeared to talk as though they were platonic friends. 

He only turns to look at Wilson when he grabs popcorn from the bowl on House’s lap as his best friend seems to be enjoying the evening. It is then when he notices something on the knee of his black pants, a long light grey hair or two that cling to the pants. Too thin to likely be human and Wilson has never given any indication that he’s into silver haired chicks. So an animal hair, and based on Wilson’s previous pets that he’s had while single, it would indicate cat. House needs to investigate this further, but he needs a good excuse.

“Which bathroom did you just take a dump in?” House asks this and Wilson automatically replies, “The main one.” And he clearly doesn’t even worry about why House is asking him this.

“I got to take a piss, and I prefer to do it in your lavender scented bathroom.” House states this and Wilson clearly on autopilot just replies, “Don’t spray out the entire container of air freshener this time – it took days for the smell to dissipate enough that I didn’t feel like I was going to die of lavender overdose.”

House slowly makes his way to Wilson’s bedroom and his en suite bathroom. He stops and surveys everything. There is nothing obvious at first, all of his suits are neatly lined up in the closet and he finds the vintage suit hanging on the back of the door. He gives it a quick sniff and can smell a slight amount of sweat lingering on it . . . Wilson did wear it and he definitely sweat up a storm. He moves to the bathroom and looks around including peaking in his trash, but it was just emptied only a few q-tips and tissues are in it, nothing informative. To make sure he’s accurate, he does actually take a piss, flushes and washes his hands before he uses a liberal amount of his lavender air freshener to cover his tracks and he does one last check of the bedroom. The only thing that seems off for Wilson is the sweater folded neatly on the dresser. The man owns so many crew neck and v-neck sweaters he could open his own boutique and still have enough to wear, but Wilson always makes sure to put them away in his entire dresser dedicated to sweaters. 

House looks at the sweater, Lands’ End, 100% cotton, size large, made in the USA. This is an old sweater these aren’t made in the States anymore and it is 100% cotton. Definitely is old enough for Wilson to wear but it seems oddly compact on the dresser. He picks it up and as he unfolds it, he realizes what was off, it is a large, which is what Wilson would wear, but this is clearly not an adult large. It is a youth large! He holds it up to his nose and gives it a good sniff. It smells strongly of Wilson’s lavender scented fabric softener. But another scent lingers beneath it a vague ‘fresh’ scent. This is someone else’s sweater and **_she_** uses a different fabric softener. And **_she_** has a long-haired cat with grey fur.

House grins to himself as he refolds the sweater and places it back on the dresser as he makes his way back to the living room. Wilson has fallen asleep in front of the TV, he had mentioned that he was on call last night and had an emergency at 4 am, and by time he had resolved it, Wilson decided to work his normal day. He leans over and gently teases one of the grey hairs off of Wilson’s knee and holds it up before he lets it float away. Cat hair for sure; and Wilson has never met a cat he didn’t like.

Of the two nurses, Wilson had talked to, Diaz is married and is a known gossip, so there is no way Wilson is involved with her. But the other, Singh, she is cute, friendly and more importantly, petite. She could be the type of person who could fit in a youth large sweater that is last least 20 years old. He had also noticed she has a bit of a retro look when he had seen her in her normal clothing before or after a shift. She likely picked it up at a vintage store. That’s the reason why Chase was so upset by his comment; Chase is interested in Singh, but Wilson is dating her instead. It would explain why Chase said that he’s certain that ‘someone’ got laid at PPTH that past weekend? It could be Wilson, but Wilson would have looked happier on Monday morning if he did. Or maybe Wilson got closer to having sex with her? 

House’s mind is swirling with all of the possibilities as he can’t wait to test them out. Just then House’s phone rings. After making Chase redo the sleep study with Thirteen last night, he made Taub and Foreman run as many different tests for stressors to induce the rather extreme sleepwalking in their patient. Taub tells him that they have some confusing results and he and Foreman have set them up to repeat overnight and they will report back in the morning the second set of tests.

House sighs knowing he can’t torture either of them and he gives them the go ahead to head home, and he thinks it would be good to head to his own home as it is just after 9. As he ends his phone call, Wilson asks him half awake, what his team is doing. House tells him they need replicate tests and he should head home himself since Wilson has become boring asleep.

Wilson looks sleepy as his hair is now sticking up at an odd angle as he rubs his left hand over his face, “Okay House, I’ll see you tomorrow.” He gets up and walks to the kitchen to pour himself a glass of water as House puts his motorcycle jacket on and gloves and heads out the door. “Later Wilson. Go get your beauty sleep for your new girl.”

The door clicks shut, and Wilson looks around quizzically, speaking to himself. “What new girl? Unless he’s talking about the ‘girl’ I’ve been seeing for over a month.” Wilson’s question hangs in the air of his apartment and he shuffles off to his bedroom to shower and change into his pajamas and pass out.

* * *

Your phone rings right as you park your car at work before 8:30 on Thursday, definitely Wilson. 

“Morning, sorry I didn’t get back to you immediately last night. House was over and then I feel asleep while we were watching TV. I got called into work at 4am and decided to still work my full day.” Wilson seems chipper and refreshed over the phone.

“That’s okay. You said your meeting was at 3:30 right?” You ask Wilson to confirm his Friday schedule.

“Yep, 3:30 and they told me it will wrap up around 5:00. Should we meet in the lobby? I’ll have my car, so I can follow you to the shopping plaza.” Wilson sounds excited, likely both about participating in the clinical trial and well, going on a date with you. You smile to yourself.

“Sounds good. I’ll see you at 5 on Friday. Bye.” You need to wrap up the call and get out of your parked car into work. He replies with a quick “Bye.” And then ends the call.

* * *

Friday morning, Wilson wakes up excited. Not only does he have his meeting to introduce him to his role as an independent reviewer for the clinical trial, but he’s got a date and well, all of the extras lined up.

The weather has warmed up a bit and it looks like that last gasp of pleasant autumnal weather before November, he packs his overnight bag, adds in her sweater as he hums to himself. Today’s outfit is clean cut professional. Navy suit, crisp white dress shirt and a maroon tie with small gold polka dots. Nothing to bright but shows seriousness to the pharmaceutical division members.

When he gets into work, he finds the Diagnostics office a complete mess. The team is nowhere to be found and House is asleep in his chair. He pops his head in, “House, what happened with your case?”

House grumbles before he opens sleepy and disappointed eyes. Rubbing the sleep out of his eyes House looks defeated. “A battery of every type of physical stressor and what do we discover? The only remaining cause of stress for him is work and psychological. Such a disappointment.”

Wilson feels disappointed for House, “Well, I’ll see you at lunch then. I’m on clinic duty from 10 to noon so come grab me then.” Wilson then walks out quietly and let’s House fall back asleep.

* * *

House begrudgingly heads down to the Clinic to rescue Wilson from any moments of caring that go beyond his required hours.

When he gets down to the main desk in the clinic, Wilson is chatting with Chase who is also wrapping up how own hours. Only Chase would volunteer to take the Friday morning shift, but hey, he’s Catholic. They are approached by the nurse who divides them, Singh. House pauses to watch from a distance, and she hands a small paper flyer to Wilson who is beaming as he looks it over, before folding it neatly and putting it into his pocket. Chase and Wilson both seem friendly and pleasant with her and he doesn’t notice any tension between either of them. House then yells to break up their conversation, “Wilson, come on! I’m hungry!”

As he gets up to the trio, Singh greets him, “Doctor House, I hear you are rather fond of music. Perhaps you’d be interested in joining us next weekend?” And she smiles sweetly at him and all of a sudden, the flyer is in his hands. 

House isn’t sure what to think as he’s trying to estimate how tall she is and if she’d fit into a youth large. He's wondering how odd it would be to sniff her randomly, but she's wearing scrubs and those are cleaned here at the hospital. He nods as he takes the flyer and shoves it into his pants pocket. “Come on Wilson.” And with that he’s pulled Wilson away from Chase and Singh. 

Chase and Singh are unaffected by the House interruption and they head off to their respective locker rooms to go out to lunch as they are both done with their shifts.

House is in a foul mood at lunch and Wilson tries to humor him by distracting him about some pretty young medical students at the table nearby. He’s distracted and he can tell that something isn’t adding up between Chase, Wilson and Singh. Wilson’s body language tells him that he is comfortable with her as though he’s been intimate with her, but Chase appears the same.

“What was all that about?” House asks Wilson out of context. Wilson takes a bite of his fries, “About what? Oh, do you mean this?” Wilson wipes his greasy fingers off on his napkin before he pulls the small paper flyer out of his pocket. “Swing dancing at the local community center. Singh is on the committee that organizes the dances and she’s been trying to get more people from Princeton-Plainsboro to give it a try. You should keep the flyer and see if you are interested.” 

House’s brow furrows and he begins to open his mouth to retort that dancing isn’t something that he’s done for years, but Wilson’s counter argument is already volleyed back at him, “They always have a live band and it includes a piano. You might be able to swing a chance to play with them.” Wilson looks at him not with pity but as his friend who knows that House will always love music and he needs a chance to do more than play at home and drink scotch or bourbon alone to an audience of one.

House pulls out the flyer that is crumpled from his pocket. “Well, I’m only doing it for research purposes. You and Chase have something in common with Singh.” They then shift topics to if the weather will hold out for much longer and House begins to feel the exhaustion from sleeping in his office overnight. He stands up and picks up his tray, “I’ve got to go home and crash. Have a good one Wilson.” With that House sulks his way out of the café, but Wilson feels relived that he is calm enough to know that House is going to head home and go to bed without the aid of Vicodin. 

After lunch Wilson heads to his office to wrap up some charts and he submits them to records before he pops his head in Cuddy’s office on his way over for the clinical trial meeting. She glances up from her paperwork and tells him to have a good weekend.

The drive over is uneventful and the meeting is full of oncologists from around the tri-state area. Several are surprised to see him there as it is well known that the workload of Princeton-Plainsboro department heads is much higher than many of the other hospitals. It is an interesting experience and he’s happy to do something that he hasn’t had to opportunity to do and even if he’s not directly involved in the drug trial, he thinks as an independent reviewer he’ll help future patients. 

The meet wraps up a little early and he slowly strolls his way down to the main lobby to wait. Just after five, he sees her coming down the hallway wearing a pair of coral colored heels, black dress pants and a pastel colored dress shirt under a dark grey sweatshirt peeking out from under her mid-weight coat. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was the best place I could end things. The next date will be in the following chapter so prepare for some fluff.


	7. chile, heat and saturday morning shopping

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Further pondering on the early stages of dating Wilson. Dinner, sexy times (full description found as a separate chapter) and Saturday morning at the Farmer's Market and some shopping. 
> 
> House continues to gather evidence to Wilson's personal life . . .

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote a chapter 6 that spiraled out of control. I had to split it off for this chapter 7. As I did with the last time there was a more explicit sex scene, I split it off to a separate work. It can be found under the "carefully calibrating" title.
> 
> If you are interested in reading this in line with the explicit scene, read as far as when you undo Wilson's tie. I put a line break after that. Go ahead and read the second chapter for "carefully calibrating" and then return to this chapter and pick up after the line break!

Right before 5 you begin to shut down your computer and pack up your things. Everyone in the office is packing up to head home and enjoy their weekend. A few co-workers have commented on your appearance today, so they must know that something is up.

You put on a fun pair of old Fluevogs that were still hiding in your closet, coral colored with a moderate heel, basic black dress pants, and you put on a plaid pastel dress shirt under a dark grey sweatshirt. The outfit is comfortable enough for labwork, and cute enough to be date ready. You put your coat on and throw your messenger bag over it as you head down to the lobby.

You spot Wilson standing in the lobby off to the side as to not block other people exiting (how considerate of others!). He seems relaxed and he fidgets with his briefcase in his left hand. A woman in a very severe looking black suit and black patent pumps with a bright red sole stops to chat with him. He’s pleasant enough with her and they shake hands as she heads out the door with an equally expensive patent black leather purse. 

As you get to the end of the corridor, Wilson spots you and waves his right hand as he looks away; is he blushing?

“Hello, Doctor James Wilson.” You are beaming as you approach him and the two of you move in for a hug. “Hello there.” He greets you warmly before he sneaks in a quick kiss on the cheek as his right-hand lands on your upper back. “Shall we shove off?” Wilson says as the two of you walk toward the doors. “I’m parked in the visitor’s lot, which is very close to the main entrance. Can you give me directions just in case we get split up?”

You explain the major points of the directions and where to turn into the shopping plaza and that you’ll pull into the visitor’s lot so that he can follow you out. Thankfully, the two of you are able to drive to the shopping plaza with little effort. The two of you walk into the sushi place first, which already has a 30-minute wait. Plus, it is sushi in New Jersey. . . both of you shrug and then walk over to the small bistro, which turns out to have a prix fix menu, which features pork chops. Wilson then shakes his head no to the pork. The only option that remains is the small Mexican place. The two of you enter to a half empty place which is considerably quieter than either of the other places and they are able to seat you immediately.

It smells good, there is a mix of onions, chile and beef in the air and the two of you start with waters as you look over the menus. Wilson not surprisingly, he compliments you on your outfit, it looks professional but not too over the top. You still blush at his comment and you inquire why he seems a little more dull than normal as he seems like some sort of pop of color in his wardrobe. He explains that people always dress very conservatively when interacting with industry and he didn’t want to draw too much attention to himself, as he’s not sure where this is going to go.

You nod along as you look over the menu. “You mean like the woman who stopped to chat with you? She looked next level conservative.” Wilson looks a little surprised but then recovers quickly, “Oh yes, that was an old colleague from Penn who also was in my specialization program. She’s now at a very posh hospital in Manhattan. It shows through and through. And yes, she is wearing all designer stuff, I should know . . .” Wilson then pauses as he looks concerned and his think brows are furrowed, and he takes a sip of his water before he continues. “I know because of my ex-wives and an ex-girlfriend. Several of them had expensive taste.”

And there is this huge silence between the two of you as he has a taught, but soft smile towards you. He’s admitted it, what House yelled outside the Chinese place was true. He’s had multiple marriages as well as another serious enough relationship that ended. 

You take a sip of your water as a waitress approaches your table asking if you are ready. Having not even taken a good look at the menu you stall, “We are still looking over the menu. Can we get some chips to start?” She nods at you and picks up on the heaviness between you and Wilson. “What type of salsa? We have red or green.” You immediately respond, “We’ll have green and give us a side of sour cream if his whiteness can’t handle it.” As you gesture to Wilson and he looks embarrassed. The waitress breaks into a grin and she’ll be right back with that.

“If my whiteness can’t handle it?” Wilson hangs his head down before he looks up at you, “Why green?”

“Green tastes way better than red, trust me. It is clear that this is a New Mexican style place, half the dishes have Hatch chiles which are everywhere in New Mexico but not very common elsewhere. There is a place in Baltimore that is similar. But I digress. Let’s look at the menu and get our order placed before continuing further.”

Wilson seems more than pleasantly surprised, and he isn’t sure what to order from the menu. “What do you suggest?” he asks hesitantly. You glance over things and try to find something that is tasty but not too heavy for later. “Well chile rellenos are always good; they are green chiles that are cut open, cheese is shoved into them, they are then breaded and deep fried in a batter. The only wild card is how spicy the chiles are that go into it. They have a platter with beans and rice on the side so that might be good.” 

He then asks you want you will get. “I’ll have the huevos rancheros. I use that as my baseline at all Mexican places.” The waitress has arrived with your chips and green chile salsa and a side of sour cream. She seems more relaxed as the tension over your table has let up, “What would you like to order?” Wilson gestures to you to order first. 

“I’ll have the huevos rancheros. Eggs over easy. Corn tortilla. Pico de gallo topping. Please substitute the refried beans with whole beans and I’ll have a Topo-Chico.” Wilson seems in awe at your rapid-fire order as you shrug and add, “I am a creature of habit. Oh, and by the way, I’m not normally the type of person to meddle with another person’s order, but make sure he gets whole beans instead of refried.” The waitress smirks as she turns to take his order. 

Wilson looks a little less intimidated, “Uh, I’ll have the chile relleno platter and sure, give me the whole beans instead. Is this even an option on the menu . . .” He looks so cute as he’s trying to confirm were the option is. “Oh, and I’ll also have a Modello.” With that the waitress is off to put your orders into the kitchen as you are able to try the chips and salsa. 

Ah, the salsa is good, it is a nice medium and it tingles a little on your tongue. Wilson also gives it a try with some additional real-time commentary. “Hm. Pepper with a citrusy flavor, oh it is getting a bit tingly . . . and oh that has a kick!” and he takes a gulp of water and he’s looking a little flushed. He looks a little surprised as you continue to dip your chips into the salsa, “You don’t think that is hot?” he asks.

“Nah, this is medium, which is okay for me. Granted, I had several years to build up a tolerance, but a good roasted green chile salsa is good. Don’t you agree?” Wilson seems hesitant as he replies, “Well it did start out with a nice citrus in addition to the pepper. Would the red have been better?” You shake your head, “Usually the red is hotter and it lacks that depth you get with the green, plus this place has green chiles which you can’t find everywhere.”

The waitress returns with the mineral water for you and the beer for Wilson and she watches as Wilson dips his chips in the salsa and adds a touch of sour cream with them. “Work your way up to it sir.” She smiles at him and he has no choice but to hang his head in shame with a bit of a blush as he eats the chips with salsa.

You pour your mineral water into a glass as Wilson pours his beer into one as well. You hold up your glass to his, “Cheers! A toast to a Friday and adventures with Hatch green chiles!” Wilson laughs as he meets your glass and simply says “Cheers!” and you both take a drink.

You decide to tackle his admission as casually as possible so that the rest of the night can move more smoothly. “So, based on what you said earlier, House was right about you having multiple ex-wives?” 

Wilson nods timidly, “Yes, I’ve been married and divorced three times. The first one was another doctor who left me right as we finished medical school. The second, I cheated on and it was my fault. The third cheated on me though I wasn’t guiltless. But all of them were out of my need to be needed by someone else. If that makes sense to you.

House says that I am a need vampire and that I feed on emotional neediness. I know he’s right but I’m so good at it. The ex-girlfriend wasn’t the same as the ex-wives, but she died rather suddenly in an accident. It has taken me a long time to get back out there. I hope this time it is different.”

You nod along as he tells you this with pure and raw honesty. He’s not trying to gloss this over, he’s telling it to you all. He is the complete opposite of you, and you know what type of person he was in all of those relationships; someone like your best friend who always needed to be in a relationship for himself to feel needed and loved. 

His hands are playing this his napkin and you reach out and put your hands on his across the table. 

“Look, it is clear that we have completely different experiences and that is okay; because we are different people. I have spent most of my adult life avoiding relationships once they have the potential to get serious. I take care of myself, I don’t need someone to need me. . . .” 

you take a deep breath before you continue as this is the first time you’ve admitted this to anyone you’ve dated so far –

“more that I’ve told myself in the past that if I had to rely on someone else, I would be too weak to make it. It has taken me years to figure out that it is okay to want and to accept someone else caring about you.”

You feel emotionally spent after you said these words aloud. Wilson looks at you through his deep brown eyes that are looking a bit watery. He smiles as his thumbs rub against your hands before he makes a wet sniffle.

“I think we’ll be okay.” Wilson says this barely above a whisper. “Thanks for your honesty.” 

The sound of loud laughter breaks the quiet that has enveloped the two of you. Both of you glance back to the main entrance were several very conservative looking men in suits, as well as the woman you had previously seen talking to Wilson at work, are chatting loudly. By the volume of their group, they clearly had some post-work drinks before heading here for dinner. The waitress seats them in another room and the volume of the place returns to what it was before. 

She then arrives with your dinner and asks if you want a refill on your chips. You thank her but make sure that you don’t want to kill your appetite with more chips. With all of the heavy emotional lifting done, the two you are now suddenly starving. Wilson is adorable as he tries the rellenos. It looks like the first chile is a mild one as he eats it with little issue. However, his second one is much spicier than he was expecting, so you push the sour cream to him to put on it as well. He seems to enjoy the rest of the platter with the rice and whole beans to balance things out and overall, he seems happy with his decision.

The huevos are pretty good. Not the best that you’ve had, but definitely up there with higher quality ones. The eggs were runny, the topping wasn’t saucy or heavy and their tortillas are delicious with the beans and rice. Overall, it wasn’t heavy with lard or cheese and you are pleased that your dinner won’t lead to issues later on this evening. The waitress comes by to clear your plates and she asks how everything was. Seeing that both of your plates are completely empty she seems happy that Wilson seems to have enjoyed his dinner despite his hesitation. “Would you like dessert?” she asks. 

Feeling bold, you order some sopapillas for both of you. She smiles and is off with the plates.

Wilson put his elbow on the table and rests his chin in it as he has a content look on his face. “Dessert it is. Would you like to get a drink after this?” You drink your mineral water before replying. “I normally would be good with that, but I’d prefer to keep my digestive system light so to speak, if you’d like to have one go ahead, but I really don’t need alcohol to relax.”

He smiles so that his dimples are visible. “You really are a bit unusual. This has been a very tasty dinner, but I think we should at least let things settle a bit when we get to your place. Is that okay with you?” You nod in reply and wait for the sopapillas. “I’m guessing Keith will be hungry when we get back to your place?” Wilson asks this rhetorical question as both of you know he’ll be ready and waiting at the door.

The sound of high heels and another person walking catch your attention, the woman from earlier is walking with one of the men who came in with the large group and it appears they are heading to the restroom. The man notices Wilson and stop at your table forcing the women to stop as well. “Hey Jim Wilson! Jim, I didn’t know you’d be here, if you’d stuck around you, should have joined us for drinks and dinner.” Wilson gives him his nicest most polite smile as he tilts his head back.

“Oh, maybe next time. I already had dinner plans.” As Wilson says this the man then notices you sitting there with Wilson.

He then aggressively offers his hand to shake yours, “Doctor Matt Jones, I’m an oncologist at Mt. Sinai in New York. And you are?” You take his hands and you introduce yourself. 

Jones replies excitedly, “Oh, a fellow Doctor? Are you at Princeton-Plainsboro as well? They certainly seem to always hire a ‘certain’ type of female doctors. If you know what I mean.” You catch an icy glance from the woman still standing stoically next to him and the temperature around her is rapidly decreasing.

You then correct him that you are a research scientist, specifically a plant molecular biologist hired by the very same company running the clinical trial that they are consulting for. The woman makes a soft ‘hmpf’ noise as she gets Jones to move along. “I have to use the restroom and wash my hands before having those chips. James. See you at the next meeting.” Wilson replies with a simple “Eva.” And he nods to her.

With that she turns on her heel and she’s practically walking to the ladies’ room. Jones smiles like an idiot and you are pretty sure, he’s wondering if hitting on you is worth the effort. The temperature around your table warms up with the ice queen’s departure and the friendly waitress returns with the sopapillas and places the handwritten check on the table. She tells you to bring it up to the front to pay when you are ready.

“Wow, that was interesting. Did you turn down joining them earlier? If so, I think you made an excellent decision.” Wilson takes a bite out of a sopapilla realizing it is a giant sticky mess. He commits to finishing it and resorts to licking his fingers to get the excess honey as the click-clack sound of Eva’s heels pass by your table. You can see the horror on her face as Wilson’s is caught with his fingers in his mouth. 

You can’t help yourself after she’s out of earshot, “I think if that stick up her ass were any further, I think it would be judged to be in-operable.” Wilson tries to hold in a laugh, but it comes out as a deep belly laugh as his eyes begin to tear up.

Between breaths, he tries to calm down before he can reply. “You have no idea. When I was training with her there was a betting pool on who would be the least likely to laugh. She won the entire pool - as she bet on herself and she was never spotted laughing.” 

“Isn’t that cheating?” you ask as you try to eat your own sopapilla without making a sticky mess and failing miserably. Wilson laughs again, “Unfortunately, we didn’t have clear ground rules at the time. She also wasn’t aware of the pool to begin with.” he takes a final swig of his beer and excuses himself to wash the honey off of his fingers.

You finish off the sopapilla and try your best to wipe the honey off, but you’ll also have to admit defeat and wash your hands off. Once Wilson has returned you excuse yourself as you to clean up as well. When you return to the table, Wilson begins to put his coat on and you grab your bag and also put on your coat. The two of you make your way to the front and of course Wilson pays for dinner and saves his customer copy in his wallet. You lean in towards Wilson and touch his left arm. 

“I’ll go on ahead to my place. I need to feed Keith and scoop the litterbox and whatnot. Give me a call when you are parked or go ahead and buzz my apartment so I can let you in.

He looks down at you with a soft smile as you stand on you tiptoes as you give him a quick peck on the cheek. He blushes and he ruffles his hair with his right hand while he stands next to you.

“Okay. I’ll see you then.” And with that you are out the door to get a head start on Wilson back to your place.

Traffic has died down as most people are either home for dinner or dining out. You get home just before 7 and sure enough mews of utter urgency cry out from behind your door. As you come in you squat down to pet Keith and you take your shoes off and hang up your coat while putting your bag down on the table. Keith calms down as he chomps down on his kibble and you cut up some bell pepper to add in as well. 

With Keith distracted, you are able to clean out the litter box, take it out to the dumpster around back and put on the kettle to heat some water for tea. As you are waiting for the water to boil, your phone rings, it is Wilson and he’s in the lobby. You let him into the hallway from the lobby and in about 30 seconds, he’s knocking at your door.

When you open the door, he’s fidgeting with his overnight bag in his hands. “Come on in.” you hold the door so that he can enter, and lock the door behind him, as he removes his coat and shoes. He still has a soft smile that seems to linger on the corners of his lips. He squats down to open the overnight bag and Keith runs over to check him out rubbing up against his legs and sniffing the bag. He pulls out your sweater and holds it up to you “Here.”

You accept the sweater and your hands brush during the exchange, and you turn to take it back to your bedroom to put in your closet, as you are putting it away the kettle begins to whistle but suddenly stops. 

“I got it!” Wilson yells this from your small kitchen. You return to find him pouring the hot water into two mugs while Keith sits at his feet watching him. “I’m not sure where you keep all of your tea . . .” he asks this as you press into him as you reach behind him to open a cabinet.

He feels warm where you touch him and both of you remain calm . . . you present a large tray with all of the teas you have, and he pulls out lemon ginger and you grab an orange spice tea. The two of you let your tea steep in silence in your kitchen. It feels different now that you’ve said more than just basic information during dinner, and it is comfortable in the quiet.

You finally break the warm silence, “Come on, let’s find some random TV to watch for a bit.” And you turn to the living room with your hot cup of tea.

“For a ‘bit’. Define a ‘bit.’” Wilson says this with playfulness as his left hand lightly lands on your waist. You laugh at his comment and just turn back to smirk at him. He settles on your couch and you sit next to him, your head on his left shoulder as your teas sit on the coffee table cooling until they are that perfect temperature that is neither scalding nor lukewarm.

There isn’t anything super exciting on, so you settle for your default of watching home makeovers on HGTV. It turns out that due to Wilson’s apparent care for interior design, he’s great at making non sequitur comments in a non-ironic fashion which is hilarious. While the two of your try your best to determine why an empty nester couple need a 4 bedroom, 3 bathroom house, his left hand begins to slowly explore your left arm cautiously. He moves with soft power, just touching your arm enough to know that he’s there but not enough to feel urgent.

Both of you finish your teas and you take a commercial break to put them with the rest of your dirty dishes and wash up. As you return from the bathroom, he excuses himself to also go to the bathroom. When he returns, he sits down next to you but this time he is smirking.

You give him a side eyed glance and he only raises the stakes by also returning the side eye back at you. The warmth of his left thigh pressing against your right is warm, no, hot and getting hotter. He readjusts himself while making a little sigh, and his thigh moves against yours and he ruffles his hair, making it messier. You want to make his hair a total mess and wipe that smug expression off of his face.

Feeling bold, you suddenly move to sit on his lap, straddling him with your knees and you put your hands on his shoulders. He jumps a little at the sudden shift in your position and he’s at eye level with his hands landing on either side of your waist. You hesitate for just a moment as you look at his chocolate brown eyes as they seem to be searching for the same thing in your eyes. His fingers dig slightly into your hips . . . and the two of you lean in for a kiss. You taste the ginger from his tea as it tingles on your tongue and he’s already got one hand on your back and the other has moved to your ass making lazy circles. The kiss is slow and totally different than the previous kisses. It seems like you are kissing him for the first time again with a level of intimacy that has been added on. Your right-hand dives into his hair and you feel the soft, silky hairs as you give it a gentle pull and he purrs into your mouth. 

You’ve clearly done something that he likes, and he responds by grabbing your bum with both hands and pulls you closer to him as you begin to gently move on his lap. As you pull back to catch your breath, he begins to kiss along your jawline from your right ear down your neck and you feel like you are moving in slow motion as he draws things out with a level of patience unseen from most men you’ve slept with, it seems – sweet. 

However, since you are both fully clothed, he can’t get too far down your neck. You let go of him so that you can lean back, and you pull off your sweatshirt. He just watches you with a quiet stillness as you are taking the shirt off. It ends up inside out, tossed to the side of you on the couch and your hair gets messed up, but it doesn’t matter. With the sweatshirt off, his hands move up to your sides and he untucks your dress shirt while you lean in to start kissing him again, as your hands move to slowly undo his tie. 

* * *

Before you are even completely aware of it, you've just had sex with Wilson on your couch and both of you are spent, hot, sweaty and naked on your couch.

The two of you lie there for several minutes until you begin to feel uncomfortable, like you aren’t alone. You glance over to the chair to see Keith sitting there, paws tucked under his chest all proper as he is just staring at both of you. 

Wilson notices that you have suddenly become distracted, and he turns to see what you are looking at. He then has a slight jolt of shock, “Keith! Oh my god, how long do you think he’s been sitting there watching us.” He seems a little unsettled by the cat stare, but really, Keith is just a cat.

Wilson all of a sudden becomes very aware that you are both lying naked on your couch. “Do you think we should cover ourselves up? He’s definitely watching us.”

“What, are you kidding me? Keith is naked all the time. He licks his butt multiple ties on a daily basis.” And with that statement you start to laugh at how worried Wilson is about potentially exposing your cat to inappropriate human behavior.

He looks briefly embarrassed and begins to giggle along with you as well. You slap him on the bare ass as you speak, “Come on, let’s shower and head to bed. Farmer’s Market tomorrow morning, eh?” 

He just smirks at you as he gets up and the two of you take the time to go to the bathroom and both shower and change into your pajamas. Keith has still been watching both of you but still seems to be mainly just an independent feline observer. 

Wilson has blow dried his hair somewhat, but he kept it un-styled and a bit damp as he gets under the covers with you. As you get settled into bed you yell to Keith that it is bed time. Sure enough he trots into the bedroom, his tail waving in the air before he softly leaps onto the bed and gets comfortable at your feet.

With Wilson spooning you from behind and Keith keeping your toes warm, you are able to turn the light off and drift off to sleep.

* * *

Without fail, at 6:50am your alarm wakes you with a rather perky and insistent meow. Keith is hungry and demands to be fed as he paws at your head. You try to ignore him so instead he sticks his butt and fluffy tail in Wilson’s face. You hear the awkward noises that Wilson makes as he tries to bat the tail away from his nose half awake.

“Fine fine fine. I’m getting up buddy.” You extract yourself from the warm bed as you slide into your slippers and toss on a hoodie as you quickly scoop kibble into his bowl so that you can get back to bed. 

Upon return to your bedroom you see that Wilson has rolled onto his left side facing away from your nightstand. You use this as a chance to be a big spoon as you are able to wedge your nose into his neck. The two of you become comfortable as you find yourself matching his comfortable slow breaths and both of you fall asleep. 

The next thing you know, your alarm is going off at 8:15 and you roll over to turn it off as Wilson follows your body, now back to spooning you. “Time to get up.” You say it somewhat energetically as he just hums in response. “No seriously, if we want to get to the Farmer’s Market at a reasonable time we should get up.”

Wilson finally makes a groan as he yawns loudly. “Okay, I’ll get up. Let’s make sure to get some scones at the market, so we don’t need to make breakfast.” 

With that, the two of you get up and Wilson insists on a morning shower while you make due with your basic, shower free morning routine.

* * *

House is on his way back from his early morning yoga class for pain management on his motorcycle. The yoga class is his deepest, darkest, dirtiest secret, no one is to know about it. He made sure to do his research to verify that all of the attendees do not know anyone at PPTH. The class is a yin class (whatever that _actually_ scientifically means, as House understands the philosophy behind the term from a purely academic perspective) mainly focused on the floor or seated positions. He will never admit that perhaps the focus on his breath has helped with his Vicodin recovery nor that it has helped with other aches and pains. Never! 

To the annoyance of the instructor, he keeps coming back, despite his ample sarcasm before and after the class. Or that is what he tells himself since he’s pretty sure she’s figured out he’s all bark and no bite since it is helping with his pain management. . . .

He feels the crisp fall air as he rides through the small quaint streets of the Historic district. There are early morning walkers, runners and dog walkers out and about, but the rest of his neighborhood is still asleep. A few blocks from his place he notices a silver Volvo parked on the street that looks similar to Wilson’s car. As House gets closer to the car, he realizes that it isn’t just the same make and model as Wilson’s car, _it is_ Wilson’s car. He’s obviously memorized his plate number like any _reasonable_ person would do.

Wilson’s car is in general street parking! And this entire block is full of middle and upper income apartments, he could be sleeping at any of them with the woman with the sweater and the cat with grey hair. She’s likely some sort of professional, yet she’s running around with a very old sweater. Interesting.

House makes it back to his place and draws a nice bath for himself while he tosses his jacket down and haphazardly shoots for his clothes hamper from the equivalent of the 3-point line. As he relaxes in the bath, he thinks about what his next step should be for his new investigation; Wilson’s sex life part 100, well realistically more like part 30 but he’s looking for something more dramatic sounding in his head.

And with that House enjoys his bath while testing out how many rubber duckies it takes to float a ‘random’ = 'fine china' dessert plate he stole from Wilson’s kitchen circa his second ex-wife era. He remembers how stressed out Wilson was when Bonnie kept trying to figure out how she lost a plate that she knew they only used it once before it ‘vanished’. 

* * *

After the required coffee has been brewed, Wilson emerges from your bathroom with his signature hair style, followed closely by Keith who is becoming bolder with Wilson, now watching him from _inside_ the bathroom. He’s dressed casually, jeans, another v-neck sweater in burgundy with a pastel pink dress shirt under it. 

You are more casual with a long sleeve t-shirt, purple hoodie and jeans. Boots will do for the day.

The weather looks like this weekend will be the last gasp of fine fall days. Crisp, clear blue skies with few light clouds. The highs are in the mid-50s and the long-term forecast shows things becoming colder, greyer and wetter as November is getting closer.

The two of you have a cup of coffee before you are ready to head out just around 9, boots, jacket, light scarf and all. You’d have made it out faster, but Wilson really likes his hair. He’s packed all of his items into his overnight bag and after he puts on his pair of Keds with his coat and a light scarf as well the two of you head off to the Farmer’s Market. Keith walks towards your door as you are heading out and he almost sees the two of you off as you tell him you’ll see him later.

Wilson parks at the same lot as previously when you were at the Farmer’s Market and it seems more crowded. Everyone must know that this is the last nice weekend, and they are trying to get in their last little bit of outdoor friendly shopping. Wilson has his reusable bags ready and waiting in his trunk and this time you brought one as well.

Both hungry, you get scones for breakfast; this time they have a seasonally appropriate pumpkin which sounds tempting, but you really don’t do that type of seasonally appropriate. You stick with an orange and cranberry while Wilson is clearly the type of person who loves seasonal things and he selects the pumpkin scone. After procuring more coffee (since you are only the second cup of the morning) the two of you stuck with the option of a cold table in the shade or just standing next to a wall in the sun. The two of you choose the wall in the sun, and Wilson seems excited about his pumpkin scone, because as he smiles as he takes a bite into it, “Pumpkin!”

“This is really good! It is very pumpkin-y with a little bit of cinnamon too.” Wilson manages to this this sentence out before he takes another bite out of the scone. “Sure, you don’t want to try some?” And all of a sudden, his half-eaten scone is being offered to you as Wilson looks at you with eager to please eyes.

You look at the scone in his left hand, hesitant as it hovers in anticipation. 

“I, uh, sure, but you can just break off a piece for me. . .” You say this as Wilson then looks a little hurt before he quickly recovers.

“Okay, sure. . .” Wilson says this as he looks at the scone ready to break off a piece for you. He then pauses and looks at you with a smirk. “Wait a second, we just swapped bodily fluids last night and now you are worried about a scone?” 

You open your mouth to reply, but Wilson has leaned in and he kisses you, making sure that there is ample tongue defeating your complete argument of sharing the scone with him. He pulls back and then offers the scone back to you and you have no choice but to take a bite out of it as you turn away feeling like you are in a zone of dating etiquette that you aren’t quite familiar with.

The scone tastes, well like you thought a pumpkin scone would taste like and you smile saying that “It certainly does taste like pumpkin.” And you take a sip from your cup of coffee. “Perhaps, you should pick some up for your friends at work?” 

Wilson tilts his head as he ponders this, “Well, House hates seasonally specific things save for candy canes and Halloween candy, but he is still a child at heart.” He scrunches up his face as he thinks further. . . “Maybe Cuddy would like them? Or I could butter up some of the Oncology nurses with them . . .”

It is clear that Wilson really doesn’t have anyone he really would pick up the scones for, just well, because. He knows his best friend wouldn’t appreciate them, so he thinks that he could use them to bribe his boss with them or use them as means to bribe other people at work. This man is constantly thinking of how he can smooth things over with others without even realizing it.

“Or you don’t need to pick up any if they are only going to be used for office politics.” You say this as you finish off your coffee and scone. Wilson rolls his eyes and puts his hands on his hips. “You have no idea the power of a well-placed scone and coffee on hospital operations!” And with that declaration, he picks up his coffee to finish it and he collects your waste to throw away as he returns to the bakery to purchase some more pumpkin scones for work on Monday, which are safely placed in his I <3 NPR bag.

The two of you meander through the market picking up items and he hits up all of his usual vendors. You wrap up around 11 and Wilson puts his groceries in the trunk before he turns to you.

“Can I tempt you some lunch?” Wilson is smiling and like last weekend, he’s looking to maximize his time with you. You feel touched, “You can, but it is a little early. But I think I know someplace to go to kill some time.” 

Wilson seems intrigued, “Okay, but I’d like to get my cheese home first. Do you mind?”

You let him know it is fine and he swings by his condo to drop off his precious cheeses and once back in his car he looks at you, “Where to boss?”

“The Princeton Record Exchange!” You say this as you raise your hand to indicate heading there. 

Wilson seems surprised by your suggestion, but goes along with it. Having just moved here and are just getting settled in, you have only made it to the store a _few_ times. You recall how a very long time ago, between undergrad and grad school, you drove from State College to Princeton to hang out with a friend who was working in a lab over the summer at Princeton and you drug his ass to the Princeton Record Exchange. He was lost in the store and you were in heaven as the employees at City Lights in State College were jealous of your trip; you did not come back empty handed as they indeed had an excellent industrial and noise section in the store.

However, you are not twenty-two and looking for a copy of KMFDM’s “Nihil” for Wilson, you are looking for other things. Wilson seems a bit overwhelmed as he clearly doesn’t frequent the store, if ever, and he hovers behind you. 

“Is there anything you are looking for in particular?” Wilson asks this with genuine curiosity as you quickly flip through the CDs in the racks and along the shelves on the walls. Ah, the smell of a record store, the racks upon racks of CDs, LPs, EPs and you smile inwardly to yourself. The place isn’t too busy, half of the other customers are wearing headphones as they flip through things and everyone is in their own zone as they search for the obligatory purchase that will happen before they leave. 

“Yep.” You say this without looking up and as you are in the indie section hoping to find Bat for Lashes, Charlotte Gainsbourg or Purity Ring. Thankfully they have Gainsbourg’s “IRM” in stock as well as “Shrines” by Purity Ring. Wilson is giving off a vibe that he’s out of his element and follows you like a puppy as you continue to rapidly, yet methodically go through the store. About 15 minutes later (which is excellent time for you with another person) you’ve gotten the additional albums; “Milo Goes to College” - the Descendants, “Operation Costs” – Lusine, “Obsidian” – Baths, “Neon Bible” – Arcade Fire, and lastly used copies of volume 1 and 2 of Bauhaus 1979-1983. 

It is more than enough to start with, and you swing by the more recent releases and resist the temptation to pick something up. You make your way to the register with your pile and before you know it, everything is removed from the unwieldy plastic cases and neatly stacked in a bag ready to go.

“Wow, that’s quite a few albums. Is this normal for you?” Wilson ask this with great interest as he opens the door for you to exit. You have to think about a proper response to his question as you head back to his car.

“Errr. I guess so. Well usually, though I already own these albums.”

Wilson turns to you puzzled, as he’s opening the car doors with the fob and you both approach and enter the doors at the same time. “You already own them. What are these for? Extras?”

Once settled in the car seat, you offer the bag to him. “These are your homework. Swing dancing and swing is awesome and all, but I think you’ll enjoy a lot of these or at least find them intriguing.”

He blushes and ruffles his hair unsure how to respond. You re-offer the bag to him and he timidly accepts it. “Well, thank you. I will let you know what I think.” Wilson then ponders things a bit more as he starts up the car and he carefully places the bag in the seat behind him. "Do you normally take dates or people you are seeing to record stores?" Wilson asks this as he is driving towards your mysterious lunch location outside of the city.

You have to ponder that question a bit before answering. "Maybe. I mean, I've definitely visited stores with guys I've been interested in and we've sized each other up as we walked through the store. That reminds me, I once went to Sonic Boom with a guy who always had a list of albums he was looking for."

Wilson seems interested, "A list? Like he had a few artists he was on the look out for? I could see that." You laugh dryly, "Oh, I know what you are thinking, he's got a quick mental list right? That wasn't it, he literally had a paper list printed out on a spreadsheet which he would unfold to make sure he didn't miss anything!"

Wilson made a little snort, "Wow, that is some dedication to a search for a CD." 

For lunch, the two of you go to a small café outside of Princeton city limits that he swears has some of the best fried chicken. Turns out he’s on the money, you have delicious fried chicken with potato salad and some pie for dessert. Wilson takes you back to your place, he leans in for a good-bye kiss that seems to linger for longer than you were expecting. He clearly is looking for more, but you aren’t quite sure how to get to that point. 

“So, what should we do next weekend? First weekend of November, any ideas?” You ask this and he seems pleased.

“Well there is another swing dance at the community center, I’d like to go again, and it is up to you if you want to try more lessons.” He says this before he continues waggling his eyebrows in an exaggerated fashion “Or, I could give you some one on one lessons.” And he winks playfully.

You let him know you will think about it, you think the formal lessons might be more productive, you’ll give him a call tomorrow. However, both of you have other things to do and by 2, you are back at your place and Wilson is off to run errands.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you ever have the chance to visit Princeton, you should make a trip to the Princeton Record Exchange! The selection is amazing and nothing can replace such locations. It is similar say; Sonic Boom (Toronto, the best location was at Bloor & Bathurst, fuck you dollarama), Amoeba (SF, Berkeley & LA) in size.
> 
> It also has the selections of genre specific stores like Soundscapes (Toronto), Magnolia Thunderpussy (Columbus), Rotate This (Toronto), City Lights (State College - RIP), Luna Music (Indianapolis), Indy CD & Vinyl (Indianapolis), Vonn's (Lafayette).
> 
> And yes, I once went to a record store with a guy who literally had a print out of albums he was looking for on an excel spreadsheet.


	8. supper and seasonal activities

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More warm and fuzzy times with Wilson. We learn a little more about Wilson at work and he surprises you with a seasonally appropriate activity. You have decided to make the jump to seeing Wilson more than once a week which is a big deal for you and he handles it very well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really got into the Wilson background and it shows with a detailed breakdown of his workday. I think this is how Wilson became a department head at such a young age, becoming a subtle and masterful manipulator of people. Yes, he is also a people pleaser, but he definitely has a high emotional IQ compared to the rest of the PPTH staff. The TV show rarely highlights his skills at this because they are so subtle, but are always there in the background. 
> 
> I hope you like all of this Wilson content.

Wilson returns to his condo after a nice Friday night and Saturday morning. He really wanted to make things last longer, but she seemed that she needed her space and had stuff to do. He has a slight sense of panic but reminds himself that she said she’d call him tomorrow about attending the next swing dance. 

While Doctor James Evan Wilson has dated many different women over the years, this is the first one, who doesn’t seem to need his attention all the time. He thinks back to her confession last night before dinner, that she always pushed people away and she’s trying to accept that it is okay to be close to someone or rely on them. She also gave him homework, a huge stack of CDs to listen to! What does this even mean? And, she dropped a fair amount of cash on them, well a few were used but still. How does one respond to a woman buying $100 plus of CDs? What is the proper etiquette for this type of situation? He’ll have to do research about this, maybe suss things out with people at work?

He putters about the rest of Saturday and makes a rare call to check in on his brother. He reconnected with him last year, and the reunion hasn’t quite panned out like he wanted. If he doesn’t call his brother, he’d never know what is going on with him and his mom is doing a fair bit of the follow up instead him. 

Sunday morning Wilson wakes up early to do grocery shopping and begins to plan out his (and House’s) meals for the week. Halloween is on Wednesday, so he of course picks up a few assorted bags of candy to hand out at PPTH and also for House. There is a lot of seasonal squash, which leads him to making squash apple bake, a warm quinoa dish with squash and root veggies, and of course he can make pumpkin muffins.

Just after one, his phone rings, it is her. He’s a little nervous as he hopes she’s in favor of the swing dancing. “Hello, how is it going?” He asks this hoping to cover his feelings.

“Oh, I’m fine, just got back from the grocery store and getting ready to make some meals for the next day or so.” She replies matter of factly.

“Funny, I’m doing the same thing right now. I’m really taking advantage of all of the seasonal squash right now!” As he says this, he realizes how excited he seems about seasonal squash. Does this make him seem lame? No no no no, she knows things about plants, it is likely cool with her.

She has a soft giggle over the phone, “You really are into seasonal items. However, I can 100% get completely behind your seasonal squash excitement. I too, am making many items with seasonal produce. Plus, they all work so well in baked dishes.”

He relaxes a lot, despite her much trendier and hipper appearance, she seems to have fairly normal food opinions. With that he feels comfortable enough to ask her about the next weekend.

“So, you said you’d think about swing dancing this next Saturday, are you down for that?” He asks it as casually as possible.

“Oh yeah, I thought about it, and I think it sounds like a good idea. Though I was wondering if this time you could give me some pointers one on one, instead of attending the lesson beforehand.” She replies at first sounding direct, but there is a twinge of playfulness at the end.

Wilson clenches his fist in success! Yes! She’s going to join him on Saturday, and he can work on impressing her even more. His happiness comes though immediately in his reply.

“Excellent, I’ll have to step up my game to ‘sweep’ you off your feet.” He knows this is cheesy, but it works on her.

She replies with flirty sarcasm, “Step up your game, you already set the bar high at the last dance. I’m curious to see how you can top that. Anyways, I’ll have to get back to you about the details for Saturday. I have to go down to Philly for work Friday morning and I’m coming back the same day which means it will be fairly late.”

“That’s fine with me, I will just need enough time to figure out how to do some one on one instruction at my place.” Wilson could talk more but his oven timer beeps and one of his dishes is done baking.

“Well, I’d love to chat more, but I’ve got items in the oven that need my attention. Just let me know of the plans as needed. Got to go!” he’s oddly a bit abrupt but he is NOT burning his large dish of squash apple bake. He needs enough for him to share with House for lunch tomorrow.

“No worries, I’ll talk to you soon. Bye.” Her reply is chill and relaxed, and he doesn’t feel bad for letting her go. This is a new sensation for Wilson, he’s been able to do things for himself and she doesn’t seem concerned by it. Not only that, he muses as he puts on his oven mitts to pull out the baking dish, she is going for a second time to an activity that he clearly is much more interested in, than she is. Is she the actual Wilson in this situation? No wait, that doesn’t quite make sense since she did enjoy doing it, but he’s not carefully changing to meet her needs.

Wilson begins to wonder if he’s having some sort of epiphany about his role in a relationship but his thought process then gets derailed when his oven timer goes off again letting him know to check his pumpkin muffins.

* * *

The rest of your Saturday was uneventful, doing laundry and hanging out with Keith, in the way that you can hang out with your pet cat. Which was watching TV and reading on the couch, followed by a shower and then heading to bed with him sleeping with you.

Sunday morning, you go grocery shopping and begin to decide what to make for supper and some lunches and possible dinner for the next few days. You had promised you’d call Wilson about the swing dance on Saturday. He was not very vocal about it, but his body language seemed to say that he was really keen to go again. You had a good time with him, and he definitely made you feel special at the dance. It was like you were making up for all of the high school dances you never attended when you were in high school (and high school was soooooo long ago).

Since he seemed to really want to do it again, you call him just after 1pm. He adorably is meal planning and of course is excited about seasonal produce, a feeling that you can wholeheartedly endorse. Sure enough, his reply is as you anticipated, excited and wanting to impress you even more. You think to yourself on how much more does he have to prove himself to you? The man does it with all of his actions, everything is him, trying to make everything is okay, that you feel special and his level of dedication to this is beyond impressive.

Making sure to give yourself some space and wanting to be well rested before the dance, you tell him about a work trip to Philly on Friday which you have already been warned will take up all day and you will get back late. 

Wilson ends the call to take care of his baking needs and you smile to yourself as you try to visualize him in his kitchen, with oven mitts and an apron on, fussing over his dishes.

The rest of your Sunday is uneventful. Monday morning you are off to work and the weather is a wet and dreary one, you hope that it clears up for Halloween on Wednesday. You aren’t a huge fan of the holiday _per se_ , but there is something about a nice crisp evening.

The weather pulls your mood down a bit. Work itself is fine, but you realize that you should try to connect a little more with co-workers, especially, since you will be carpooling with a few down to Philly on Friday. 

You never are able to shake the feeling all day, and when you get home and are greeted by Keith’s bright meow, he immediately notices you aren’t feeling quite right. You feel, lonely. As you eat some baked squash with a green bean casserole (you couldn’t resist making it) Keith sticks close to you and keeps you company through washing the dishes and you chilling out on your couch with your laptop.

The weather looks to still be crappy tomorrow, and you think a Crockpot meal will do excellently. You prep your lazy, and delicious meal of some chopped up baby potatoes, a package of sauerkraut from Cleveland Kraut, and add in a link of turkey kielbasa. This will be perfect, yet it is a lot of food and you will be eating it for days afterwards. Keith mews as he watches you put the pot into the fridge overnight and you set up the heating element on your limited countertop. 

As with that mew, you realize that you don’t have to eat it for supper all alone. You could invite Wilson over for dinner and, well maybe something else afterwards. This is normal, right? Or at least you think this is normal for the early stage of a relationship . . .

It feels a bit needy, well just a touch needy, as you dial his number. You are also nervous, as you wonder that this might be too last minute for him.

When he answers the phone, he seems pleasantly surprised. You tell him that you are making a lot of food for supper tomorrow and maybe he would be interested in joining you. Without hesitation, he replies that he’d love to come over and he’s free by about 6. And with that, you’ve successfully invited him over for a regular home-cooked, well Crockpot cooked meal.

* * *

Wilson’s Monday is both the type of day that he likes and the type of day that he dislikes. As it is almost the end of the month, he has to make sure all of his paperwork and departmental paperwork is in order and submitted on time. This means that he doesn’t have to do his clinic duty until the start of November later this week (and with less hours) and his patient interactions are relatively minimal with his rounds and very few consults, again until the start of the next month. So, it means three days of paperwork with a little bit of doctoring to do, and for the most part few interruptions.

He doesn’t like to admit it, but by the end of each month he likes a few days with little interruption. It means he can get into the office fairly early, usually just before 8, put on some music and have completely focused time to get all the paperwork done.

Which leads to the part that he dislikes. The sitting in the office doing paperwork all the time for the next few days. Without him floating and fluttering throughout the hospital, he can’t chat up people, waste time and distract House’s team nor can he really shoot the shit with House avoiding paperwork, because unlike House, he doesn’t have team members who will do his paperwork for him on a quarterly basis, albeit with ample wailing and gnashing of teeth. 

This Monday is wet, cold and damp (again!) and Wilson knows that he is looking at likely alone time with his paperwork until lunch. A little seed of concern always settles in his mind on days like this; House never does well with wet weather and he always worries a bit more as the hours elongate until he sees him here, at work. 

With his rather large pile of physical and digital paperwork to complete, he has brought his music ‘homework’ into his office, the large stack of CDs that she picked out for him. Wilson futzes around with things on his desk before starting. He pulls the CDs out of the bag and flips through them, unfamiliar with all of them. Looking at the back covers he realizes that some of these are not even remotely recent, “Milo Goes to College” is from 1982, and the Bauhaus collections are from 1979-1983. He settles on the Charlotte Gainsbourg album “IRM”, as he knows it just means MRI in French so why not start with a term that he’s familiar with? But he then has to stop to realize he needs to hook up an external CD drive if he wants to use his laptop or he has to fish out an old boombox from the bottom of his cabinet. Or he thinks it is still in the bottom of the cabinet. 

Thankfully, after rooting around an old pair of scrubs with an emergency t-shirt and underwear he finds a boombox that definitely dates back to the end of med school or early in his specialization training. It is a bit dusty and he quickly grabs a few paper towels and dampens them to use it to clean off the surface and he is able to set it up on the little cubby on his cabinet and plugs it in. The sound of static crackles over the speakers, it was left in the FM radio setting. He turns the volume down and switches it to CD and pops open the top and gently places the CD and the soft sound of the disc spinning whirls as he presses play and adjusts the volume setting so it is just right, neither to loud nor too soft. As the album progresses, he finds it quite varied, going from a folksy minimal sound to orchestral and dramatic. It keeps his interest but doesn’t distract him that much and his work seems to flow along well.

Once the album has come to an end, he’s made it well into most of his charts and he needs to turn to emails to make sure that the rest of the Oncology Department have all of the paper work that he will need to sign off on by tomorrow meeting at the latest. 

Not wanting to return to silence, he turns back to the stack of the CDs, and he goes with the cover art to select his next one, “Shrines” by a group called Purity Ring. He’s intrigued by the whimsical cover art with a young woman embracing a sheep that is bleating out hands that encircle them as a pair of lungs hover above. It is on a solid black background so he thinks maybe this will be a somewhat dark sounding album. Again, he carefully opens the CD deck, places the disc inside and hits play. What comes out next surprises him completely, it is electronic music that has an ethereal and magical sound that makes him think of a dance club, but if it were run by fairies. If that makes any sense. It has more energy than he was expecting and when the album finally finishes, he looks at his watch realizing it is almost 10 and he’s making great progress on his work. Might as well sneak out for some selective socializing. 

By selective socializing, he means buttering up key members of the nursing staff, one secretary and nudging his colleagues to get their charts in on time. He puts on his white coat even though he doesn’t need it, it just sends the signal that he’s serious and grabs his bag of pumpkin scones. 

Okay, he tells himself, I have 15, 20 minutes max before I need to get back to the paperwork. With that he makes sure to style his hair and exits his office with his bribes – er - scones. He first swings by the nurses’ station and greets all of them with his trademark soft smile followed by a “Good morning! I hope everyone is well today.” A few junior nurses immediately reply while others more senior smile and nod in reply. 

He continues his soft power magic, “I managed to make it to the Farmer’s Market this weekend and I may have made a bit of an impulse purchase. The pumpkin scones there were simply delicious, and I couldn’t resist getting a few more. It was yesterday morning when I realized I may have literally bit off more scones than I could chew.”

To make sure he’ll have some takers, he hangs his head low, looks slightly embarrassed and ruffles the back of his head with his hand to really sell it. He then looks sheepishly up through his furrowed brows before he ends it with the innocent sounding statement of, “Anyone interested in a scone?” 

And he then smiles softly and watches the facial expressions of the nurses. The newest team members blush a little and they all adjust their hair which is already usually tied back, if long, before they beam as they reply that they will have a scone. He watches the dynamics as the young and single nurses all seem to watch each other before the decide what to do, and it isn’t surprising for some of the thinner looking nurses to agree to accept the scone but only if someone else will share one with him or her. At least two of the recent hires definitely make eyes at him, a quiet guy of East Asian descent and a very classically built woman with flowing dark chestnut brown hair. 

The most senior staff know his drill, if they are in the mood for whatever the treat is, they may take one or they may pass since they’ve worked with Wilson for over a decade. They know how he operates. With the seasonal nature of the pumpkin scones he has a few more takers than usual, but hey, you can’t go wrong with seasonal.

He spends a few minutes chatting with the group of nurses to get a feel for the group and to try to see if there are any issues or personnel conflicts. The most senior staff he trusts to come to him directly with issues (which they do) but he does this to understand some of the younger and new nurses, so that they will feel comfortable enough to let him know of problems. He also uses these instances to get a feel for how the Oncologists are treating the nurses and will use this information in annual performance reviews. 

Glancing down at his watch he artfully moves himself along for his next two stops. “Oh, look at the time, I’ve got to go. Enjoy the scones!” And with that he smiles and turns to head to the secretary for Oncology staffing and scheduling. He made sure to put two scones in a smaller bag and tuck into the pockets of his coat. 

“Morning Susan, how are you on this damp day?” He smiles sweetly as he enters the office of Susan Ngo, the master of the schedule for the entire Oncology Department from doctors to nurses. She makes sure vacation and leave requests never leave the department short staffed and tries to be as accommodating as possible. 

Susan’s desk is an efficiently organized L-shaped desk with shelving to her left and her computer workstation in the center. The office is full of personality, family photos are on the shelves, there are cute knick-knacks, and fall and Halloween themed décor is displayed everywhere. She is even wearing a brown and orange trimmed cardigan over a cream-colored dress shirt with khaki pants. There is a pin of a black cat wearing a witch hat on her cardigan. Her jet-black hair with a few streaks of grey is in an asymmetrical bob cut and her look is finished with a pair of black cat eye glasses.

“Could be better Doctor Wilson, I’m really getting tired of this wet weather. I’ve got to take the kids trick or treating and I really don’t want to do it with an umbrella and rain boots!’

Wilson makes a pained face upon hearing her news and leans back with his hands on his hips. “Oh, that would be very unfortunate. I mean, no one would even be able to see the kids’ costumes. Plus, I’m sure you don’t want them to get wet.”

Susan is pleased with his agreement with her and she replies as expected, “You are totally right, I just spent a lot of time and money helping the kids make their costumes and for them to be hard to wear. I hope we have a nice dry Halloween!”

Wilson then pulls out the bag with the remaining two scones as he speaks, “Well, I can’t do much for the weather, it is above my pay grade, but I do have some pumpkin scones. They are festive.”

She glows as he opens the bag so she can see the scone, “Oh Doctor Wilson, you shouldn’t have. I’m not as young as I used to be, but I do love festive pastries.” 

Wilson smiles sweetly again and leans down towards her at her desk and whispers, “Oh you still look quite fetching Susan.” He glances back and forth so she thinks that he’s making sure no one else is watching before he continues. “If you are that concerned, which you shouldn’t be, just take half a scone.” And he beams back at her as her right hand reaches to into the bag. 

“Okay, I’ll take half of one, I can’t say no to a pumpkin scone.” She says this as she pulls out a scone and expertly breaks it in half, placing one on a tissue on her desk and wrapping the other in another tissue and gingerly putting it back in the bag.

“Thanks for the scone Doctor Wilson. It looks delicious!” Susan nods and smiles as she tells him this.

“Oh, I can guarantee that it is delicious, that’s how I got in this situation in the first place. I bought them from the Farmer’s Market on an empty stomach.” He smiles as he closes the bag. 

Susan continues the small talk, “Oh, I can imagine, it is always so tempting to eat more.” She then cocks her head as she remembers something, “By the way, I know you sent out the staffing reminders about the schedule for December, but Doctor Smith hasn’t replied to my repeated emails. I just need to know what he’s thinking for that month. I know that you are always accommodating around Christmas for your colleagues, but Smith seems to be so absent minded. You don’t mind talking to him for me?”

Wilson makes sure to have his ‘professional concerned’ facial expression on and he inwardly feels accomplished. “Not a problem Susan. I’ve been meaning to talk to him about his shifts for when he is on call as well. When do you need to have an answer from him by?”

“If it isn’t asking too much, the sooner the better, but I need to know by the 5th.” Susan’s reply is polite but direct.

Wilson smiles again and nods with his hands on his hips. “I’ll make sure to get him to talk to you before then.” Again, he glances at his watch, he’s already spent about 5 minutes with Susan, crap, but oh well, this is the price of admission to having Susan working at her best. He makes a concerned gasp “Oh, crap, I’ve got to run, I need to chase down some loose paperwork before the end of the day. I’ll see you later Susan. Fingers crossed you don’t have to trick or treat in the rain!’ He waves bye as he turns on his heel to quickly exit as she gives him a dazzling smile.

“I hope so too Doctor Wilson! Thanks for the scone!” She seems much more chipper than when he first greeted her and heads to Doctor Smith’s office. Ah Smith, Wilson thinks, out of all of the oncologists at PPTH, he’s clearly the most absent minded. He later found out that when he had to cover off his shift about a month ago due to the projectile vomiting, he had drank some of the milk from the lounge. Milk that was 2 weeks past the best buy date and somehow, he didn’t notice that it was clearly ‘off’. 

As a practicing doctor, Smith is fine, he’s oddly very well-liked by patients despite his disorganization and paperwork hiccups. Perhaps it has to do with the excitement and intensity he brings to his personal practice which is unlike anyone else here at PPTH. Cuddy, is firm but caring and is almost zealous in her effort to be impartial to a patient. Thirteen is distant but always has a soft spot for them, Foreman is brisk but detailed and always keeps the patient informed. Chase uses his conditional apathy to balance getting too attached to someone while allowing him to see the bigger picture. Taub is very successful with his underwhelming style, as he sneaks up on a patient and when it comes down to important points, he always succeeds in getting the support of a patient or their loved ones. Of course, there is always House’s style of practice which yields excellent results on paper, but he’ll never get thank you gifts or Christmas cards from former patients. 

Wilson muses on his own style of practice, to an outsider he seems to be caring, compassionate and a giant softy, but he knows that’s _just_ how it looks. Yes, he does care for his patients and his amount of compassion is more than enough to compensate for House’s general lack of . . . but so many of his gestures, phrases and even tone of voice; he’s perfected them to an art when it comes to patient interactions. He didn’t really think about it until Foreman joined House’s team and he was struggling with how to talk to a patient whom he had handed a death sentence to by making the wrong call on a diagnosis and subsequent treatment. He also remembered that when he had to remotely examine a tissue sample from the PPTH faculty member trapped in Antarctica that she flat out called him out on his polite golden boy persona. Her comment didn’t mean much at the time as he pulled an all-nighter with Foreman testing reagents for her to use at the research station, but when he saw how House connected and cared for her, he knew her comment was partially correct. Wow, his train of thought has totally gone off course and he knocks on Smith’s door before automatically opening it.

And he almost collides with Smith who opened it simultaneously and the two of them jump back while yelping in surprise. 

“Doctor Wilson! I’m so terribly sorry, I was just about to use the bathroom and I just swung the door open! I really should pay more attention to things!” Smith looks overly concerned but slinks around Wilson to head to the bathroom down the hall. “I’ll be right back, please have a seat.”

Having regained his composure, Wilson looks at Smith’s office which looks like a small tornado had blown through it. Charting files are shoved on top of books in the shelves, on his desk and a few files balance precariously atop his printer. Both of the large comfy chairs are also covered in stuff, his long drab brown trench coat is thrown over one, as his built-in coat rack on the wall has a pair of 3-D movie glasses and a long knit scarf. The other chair has some medical journals and a single _sock_ on it. Picking up the journals, he scoops the sock up and places them on the chair with the coat and sits somewhat on the edge. 

Smith’s office always overwhelms him, medical reference books, as well as readings on astrophysics and Agatha Christie. Old medical tools peek out from corners mixed with the newest diagnostic tools and a few random toys. He even painted an accent wall bright royal blue on call a few years ago when he just started at PPTH. In the middle of painting, he performed his rounds with his white coat over his paint splattered scrubs. Wilson had mixed feelings about this since PPTH has staff whose job is to paint things and he was a bit worried about his image. House on the other hand just said "Cool." when he bumped into Smith painting his office.

Upon Smith’s return to the office, he prepares to do his professional best. “I’m so sorry about that again, Doctor Wilson. Sometimes, I really am lost in my own thoughts.” Smith is sincere as he says this and almost pours his tall lanky frame into his swiveling office chair behind his desk. 

“Oh, really don’t worry about it, Doctor Smith. We both had a little startle, but it is fine, I should have waited to hear a reply before entering.” Wilson tries to be as casual as possible and tries to settle into the chair a little bit more.

“I’m here just to check in with you as far as some paperwork and scheduling. I know that you are juggling a lot of patients right now with Doctor Liu’s upcoming maternity leave, but we all here appreciate you stepping up as a more senior member of the team.” Wilson hasn’t quite figured Smith out, but he responds best to straight up honesty in such matters.

“Oh, it is fine, it isn’t a big deal, I’ve been working on a new sorting method for files for efficiency. . . . though it could use some refinement . . .” and he trails off as he glances at the files strewn about the office.

“Just let me know if you need any help, I can always have Cuddy tap some of the more senior medical students to help you out with things. I recall you worked very well with that one senior student, Jones?” Wilson gestures with his hands in a friendly way and Smith nods. He then leans back in his chair and puts his feet up on his desk, revealing his beloved Converse shoes in off-white today (he owns different pairs, which he usually does not seem to match to his skinny pinstripe suits at all). 

“I’ll keep that in mind. Thanks.” Smith seems to be drifting off in thought, so Wilson has no choice but reign him back in.

“Oh, I have some pumpkin scones. I bought too many on the weekend . . . would you like one?” Wilson offers the bag to him. 

Smith immediately beams with excitement and reaches for the bag to take a scone out. “I love pumpkin scones. My favorite flavor!” he tilts his head as he thinks, “Actually, blueberry is my favorite flavor, but pumpkin has got to be up there in the top 5. No, top 10.” Smith takes a huge bite out of his scone. “Delicious! So much pumpkin. By the way, there was also half a scone in the bag.”

Wilson uses this as his ultimate move, “Susan only took half a scone, you are welcome to have it as well.”

“Susan! That’s right, I need to get back to her about the December schedule, I can cover over Christmas, I just keep forgetting to tell her.” Smith all off a sudden pulls his lanky legs off the desk, and swivels to his computer to immediately open his email client and reply to Susan’s most recent email about the schedule.

Wilson then stands up and automatically dusts off his bum from sitting on the chair in Smith’s office. “Well, I’ve got get back to signing off on paperwork for the end of the month. Please get me your documents by tomorrow morning at the latest.”

Smith turns to him from his computer and nods, “Yes, yes. I’ll work on those right after this email to Susan.” And then his right hand shoots out like a viper and grabs the bag with the remaining half scone. “Thanks, I’ll save this for a bit later.” Smith returns to the email as though nothing happened.

Wilson leans forward as he exits Smith’s office, “Have a good one.” Checking his watch, he cringes, it has been at least a half hour since he left his own office, argh, his schedule is off. Walking quickly, he swings by the Diagnostics office to see if House is in yet . . . and surprisingly House is at the table discussing something with the fellows. He takes a deep breath and lets the calm spread through his body. 

Settling back in his office, he relaxes, he got everything done and he did manage to sort out the Smith-specific issues. The power of the pastry proves itself once again.

Before diving into his emails, he pulls out another CD from the pile, this time Lusine’s album “Operation Costs”. He has heard nothing like the smooth minimal electronic music like this, but he likes it. It allows him to settle into a nice groove and around 12:30, House enters unannounced. 

“Lunch! Come on, I apparently have Clinic hours due this afternoon and I need to at least be well fed.” Wilson, holds up his right hand as he returns to finishing up an email about purchasing.

“Okay, done.” Wilson stands up and heads to the door that House has been holding open with anticipation. 

The rest of the day is less hectic for Wilson. House was in a decent mood at lunch despite the impending doom of clinic duty and as usual, he steals half the fries. Wilson makes sure to deliver House to the Clinic, and he swings by the Oncology office to pick up paperwork that requires his signature. When he sees Susan again, she smiles at him and mouths a silent “Thank you!”

He procures a cup of coffee from the Diagnostics office, where the fellows seem to be in a decent mood. They may have a case later on, House pulled a file from the ER where the patient was just moved to the ICU, if the patient stabilizes by tomorrow, he’ll let ICU handle it. If not, he’ll take on the case, meaning that House already saw something that the ER team missed.

Wilson sighs heavily and stretches as he has half of the paperwork signed off by 5:30. Time to head home and eat some of his leftovers he made over the weekend. He pops his head in House’s office to tell him goodnight and House just shrugs as he says ‘night Wilson in reply.

His phone rings just as he finishes some squash apple bake. She just called to invite him over for supper. He’s surprised, pleasantly surprised. This is new for him. Dating a person who keeps her distance and is this independent. It makes him excited and he chooses his clothing for the next day and gets his overnight bag ready. It has been a long and interesting day, but he ends it with a smile.

* * *

Tuesday starts a with a bit of a drizzle but thankfully settles on being overcast but no longer spitting water down upon the ground. You had started the Crock-pot on your way out the door and when you return home to a chipper Keith, you can smell it before you even open your apartment door. 

The wonder of the Crock-pot, it does all the work for you (except that chopping part). Keith greets you with his usual enthusiasm and you feed him his kibble with a little bit of chopped tomatoes (a personal favorite for him).

You clean off your small table and pull out some bowls, cutlery and set the table. Just at 6, your phone rings, Wilson is in the lobby and you buzz him up. Less than a minute later there is a gentle knock at your door. Keith runs to the door and he mews and rubs Wilson as he enters. He even greets you with a half hug and a kiss on the cheek. Wilson has his overnight bag in one hand, and he has placed a large canvas bag down next to him as he closes your door. Keith is sniffing the canvas bag with great interest.

“How are things? I could smell your cooking from outside the door.” He says this as he takes his shoes off and hangs up his coat and suit jacket.

You reply it is fine and he walks into your bathroom to drop off his overnight bag. Keith is now sticking his entire head into the bag. “What’s in the bag? Keith really seems into it.” You ask this as Wilson returns from washing his hands. He’s rolled up the sleeves of a purple dress shirt and he loosens his tie, another diagonally striped tie with dark purple and yellow and lavender highlights. It works well with his black dress pants and the jacket is already hanging up with his coat.

He smiles as he reaches down into the bag from which he pulls out a moderately sized pumpkin. “I figured since it was the day before Halloween, we could carve some pumpkins, I’ve got another in the bag as well as plenty of newspaper.” Sure enough, he pulls out a wad of newspapers.

You are gob smacked; this is too adorable. It takes a second for you to reply. “Sounds – good. I’m hungry through so let’s eat supper.” With that the two of you sit down at the table and quickly dig into your easy yet tasty meal. Keith slinks into the kitchen and sits in the corner and watches the two of you as you eat. There isn’t much conversation as it appears that he is as hungry as you are. Wilson even goes back for another half bowl’s worth of the mix.

“Well that was filling. The sauerkraut was really good! I’m guessing you didn’t use canned.” Wilson seems impressed as he cleans up your and his places. 

“Yeah, I recently discovered some high-quality sauerkraut from a Cleveland company, it is in the refrigerated section at the grocery store and it really adds to a dish.” You begin to put things away as you reply and prep the table for some pumpkin carving. 

Wilson has washed off the used dishes and placed them next to the sink before he grabs his canvas bag. He neatly unfolds the newspaper on your table and begins to layer it. Keith hops up onto a chair to paw at the edges as he softly scolds him, “Eh, no, no, Keith. Please don’t play with the paper.” You smile and pull out a sharpie marker and an appropriate knife. Wilson places both mid-sized pumpkins on the table and gestures towards them.

“Which one do you prefer?” He asks waiting for you to pick.

You just point to one arbitrarily before pulling down a large bowl and spoon for the removal of the seeds and squishy flesh. 

The two of you then settle down to start carving while Keith watches from the floor with curiosity. 

“How was your day?” you ask Wilson as you ponder what type of eye shape works best with your somewhat oval shaped pumpkin.

“It was okay. I’m doing a lot of end of the month paperwork. Yesterday, I had to nudge one of the other oncologists along, he’s actually a really good doctor, but he’s all over the place.” Wilson has a furrowed brow as he is focusing on drawing out his face as he speaks.

“Ah, I’ve worked with plenty of people like that. Did you get things squared away?” You ask as you are still deciding if you want round or triangle shaped eyes.

Wilson offers the marker to you, “Yeah. I used the magic of the pumpkin scones on him. I got everything sorted out by this morning.”

“Thanks.” You accept the marker, as you wiggle it between your fingers. “That’s good to hear. I shouldn’t have doubted your trust in the power of free baked goods. What do you think? Round or triangle eyes?”

Wilson cocks his head in thought as he very carefully begins to cut into the top of his pumpkin. “Triangle, it is the classic eye style right?”

“I guess so, that does give a carved pumpkin its edge doesn’t it.” You start to draw the triangle shapes onto your pumpkin. 

Wilson has cut through the top and he gently removes the top by the petiole. “Time for a full lobotomy!” He looks up you and smiles as you laugh at his terrible joke. 

“Always a doctor then, I see this a bit differently. Instead of a head, I see the unexpected removal of pumpkin babies, never to grow into a pumpkin plant.” You are now cutting open the top of your pumpkin having sketched out the face.

Wilson looks a bit perplexed as he double checks that his sleeves are rolled up firmly and removes his fancy watch and places it on the kitchen counter safely away from the pumpkins.

“I’m not sure which of us is more morbid . . . you might be with your plant abortions.” Wilson smiles to himself before continuing, “Well time to remove the – brains!” and he plunges his hand into the pumpkin pulling out a handful of pumpkin flesh.

You can’t help but smile as it is clear that both of you posses a rather dark and sarcastic sense of humor. It is nice to joke around with someone. Realizing that your apartment is rather quiet for you, you go to your stereo and put on some Bauhaus, it is makes for decent pumpkin carving music.

You then remove the top of the pumpkin and you begin to swirl the spoon around inside of the pumpkin making it easier to pull out the seeds and stringy bits of flesh.

“Oh, this is one of the CDs you gave me.” Wilson looks up surprised as he’s still removing his ‘brains’ from his pumpkin.

“What do you think?” You ask this nervously as are also cleaning out the inside.

“It seems really catchy; I mean I can tell they are from the late 70s and early 80s but they seem to work their way into your head.” Wilson is trying to describe things the best he can as a non-music nerd.

You don’t want to be a judgmental music nerd (even though you are) so you choose your words carefully. “That is true, they have a lot of songs that are goth dance floor hits and they are very fun live.” You smile reassuringly at him. “What did you think of the other albums?”

Wilson has finished with the removal of all of the pumpkin innards and he’s now carefully carving out his face after washing off all of the pumpkin guts from his hands. He glances up at you as he replies, “I haven’t made it through all of them yet. The one group, Purity Ring, they really wormed their way into my ears. I listened to it on Monday and came back to it today as well. I’m not up on music trends and terms but it made me think that if magical fairies had a dance club, they’d play this music.”

You laugh at his reply, “That is adorable, I would have never summarized it that way, but your description makes sense. And I agree with you, the album is a grower. They are really cool to see live they have lots of giant paper lamps as props, so you definitely got their aesthetic covered. What else did you listen to?” You make sure to smile kindly at him, so he doesn’t think you were making fun of him.

He is blushing though as he turns away and his hair falls a bit on his face, and he does that thing where he looks at you from under his eye lashes. 

“Ah, I listened to the Charlotte Gainsbourg, ‘IRM’, which is French for MRI. It was a quite varied album, but I found it good for paperwork. I really liked the Lusine album. It was really good background music for work!” He seems to be honest about his feelings and he returns to carving out the rest of his face.

Ruffling his hair, he shows a twinge of concern, “I also listened to the Bauhaus albums today and also the Baths one. I’m not quite sure what is going on with Baths, but the Bauhaus has a poppy catchiness. Any suggestion which one is should listen to next at work?”

You are finished cleaning out your pumpkin and waiting for him to finish with the knife. “Hrrrmm, you’ve got the Descendants and Arcade Fire albums left. Well, if you like the Charlotte Gainsbourg, you’ll definitely like Arcade Fire, I’d say the Descendants just to give it a go, it is a _seminal_ punk album.”

“Ah, I’ve been around long enough to read between the lines, that album is either something people like or hate. Here’s the knife.” He hands it over to you so that you can carve out your face. 

“Thanks. Yep, punk rock isn’t for everyone, but it is fun. Or political. Or sometimes un-listenable, but I have a pretty high tolerance for it in general.” You focus on your carving after replying to him.

All of a sudden there is a beeertt sound and Keith leaps right onto the table to check out the action. He sniffs all of the pumpkin bits in the bowl and then turns to sniff Wilson’s completed carved pumpkin. 

“Hey Keith, you interested in the pumpkins?” Wilson asks him this as he gives him good chin scritches and Keith seems pleased. “Aww you like that?” Wilson smiles as he pets Keith a bit more before, he turns to check out your pumpkin.

“Keeeiiitthh.” You drag out his name as you pat his butt, right above his tail and he mews in reply. “I need to finish my pumpkin.” Keith then turns away and returns his attention to Wilson is has started to fill the sink to wash the used dishes, something that you didn’t even ask him to do. Keith rubs Wilson’s legs before he exits towards the living room.

You are able to finish it up and you realize that Wilson has kept his completed pumpkin with its back facing towards you, so you don’t know what design he carved. 

“James, is your design a secret?” Wilson turns from washing the dishes, his hands in the sudsy water, “Yes. I was building the suspense for my pumpkin masterpiece.” He looks mischievous as he replies. “Oh, hand me the bowl and knife so I can wash those as well.” 

You put the pumpkin waste in your green bin and hand over the bowl and the carving knife. 

“I’ll wait for you to finish up and you can give me your dramatic reveal.” You tell him this as you stand behind him, pressing gently into his back. He hums in approval as he returns to washing the dishes and placing them in the dish rack to dry.

Once finished the two of you sit down across from each other with your pumpkins. Wilson looks playful, “Okay, on the count of three. One. Two. Three!” and with that you turn your pumpkins to face each other. Wilson’s is shockingly detailed, he made oval eyes, but managed to keep a bit of the pupil and iris so that his pumpkin looked like it was rolling its eyes with a straight mouth in a ‘meh’ facial expression. You yelp in surprise at his and begin to laugh, impressed. 

“That is pretty dramatic. Somehow, I feel like you are familiar with this facial expression.” You smile as he ruffles his hair in embarrassment to your statement.

“Yes, comes with my job and my friendship. You on the over hand, made the most canonical pumpkin possible.” Wilson seems impressed at how exact your details are. You make the triangle eyes with a smiling open mouth with the teeth details as well. 

“Now what am I doing to do with these? I’m in an apartment and you are in a condo.” You look at him realizing that you don’t have a porch or stoop to put the pumpkins on.

“I was thinking you could put them in your windows tomorrow evening, they do face the street, I’m sure people will appreciate them.” Wilson seems to have thought this through and he even demos it by putting his pumpkin on one of the windowsills. 

“Works.” You nod in reply and place yours in the other window before returning to fold up the soiled newspapers. Keith is on the windowsill with Wilson’s pumpkin sniffing it and rubbing his face along it, adding it to his domain.

Wilson has popped into the bathroom as you put the used newspapers in the trash and wash off your hands in the kitchen sink. You settle on the couch as you hear the toilet flush followed by the sink running. He then joins you on the couch leaning into your side. 

He wraps his right arm around you, “Thanks for dinner. It was nice.” You feel yourself blushing. 

“Well thanks for the pumpkins, it was fun, and I haven’t done this in years.” As you reply you lean into him as you place your head on his shoulder. You turn off the stereo and turn the TV on and settle into him. . . but the TV is just white noise in the background. You aren’t sure who starts things, but his hand begins to gently caress your side and you nuzzle his neck. 

Soon enough your nose is touching his right cheek and the two of you begin in earnest to make out, slow and steady. Keith is on the chair and Wilson catches him in the corner of his eye. Remembering the last time, he pulls back for a moment. “What’s wrong?” you ask him.

“Oh, nothing really, but it appears that we have an audience again. I know it is weird, but I’d prefer to move away from feline vision.” Wilson seems uncomfortable with Keith’s interest, but you can get it.

You stand up and hold your hand out to Wilson, “We can retire to the bedroom. I just need to go to the bathroom really quick.” Wilson nods as he takes your hand and stands to follow you towards your bedroom.

You go to the bathroom and adjust your hair for reasons that don’t quite make sense to you before you enter your bedroom. Wilson has removed his tie and he has even taken his dress shirt off to reveal a tight-fitting white t-shirt underneath. It looks good on him and you sit down with him on your bed turning on the small light on your nightstand adding to the atmosphere.

* * *

Afterwards, the two of you lay sweating on top of your bed. Things got more heated and intense than you had originally intended for a weeknight. You excuse yourself to shower and change into your pajamas, while he makes sure to hang his pants up and pulls out his clothing for tomorrow morning. Once you are in bed, he quickly showers and throws on his plaid flannel pants with his grey t-shirt for sleeping.

“I’ve got to shower tomorrow morning; I’m setting my phone alarm for 6:50. Is that okay for you?” Wilson places it on the nightstand on the far side of the bed that you never use as he’s asking you. 

“That’s fine, just don’t be offended if I jump into pee if you are in the shower.” You turn of your lamp and snuggle up to his chest.

“Wow, radical you are.” Even though it is dark you can almost hear Wilson’s smirk on his face as you get comfortable next to him. Another berrrrt sound announces the arrival of Keith on your bed and he gets comfy as the two of you settle in and the two of your drift off to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I couldn't resist making Wilson so fluffy. As in the surprise with the pumpkins. I also added a guest character from another TV fandom. If you think all the way back to chapters 1 & 2, I hinted at him as he appears with his common alias. I hope my description of him in this chapter is accurate enough you can figure out who he is; where in this fic this is an alternate reality he's just a regular doctor.
> 
> If you have the chance to find some sauerkraut from the Cleveland Kraut company I would highly suggest cooking with it. It can be found in the deli section of your slightly more upscale grocery stores (at least where I live). I'm impartial to the classic caraway flavor which the company describes that it is just like grandma's.


	9. Halloween among other events

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Halloween comes to Princeton-Plainsboro teaching hospital and Wilson continues to be a very top notch dude. Things may be starting to move in a more serious direction as he comes in during a pinch. House finally implements his plan towards Wilson to determine who his putative significant other is.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh yes, prepare for more fluff and cuteness and even more fluff. I'm seriously making this fic much longer than I originally intended due to my need to include so - much - detail. I was expecting to wrap this up in 10 chapters, but I suspect this will go on a bit later, as I'd like to get it to the holidays, so that I can include so much more seasonally appropriate fluff! 
> 
> I also am having a blast at adding in all of the Wilson-centric dialogue/scenes. He really is the totally adorable INFJ boy wonder of PPTH.
> 
> I seriously believe fluff and the attractiveness of Wilson is one of the few things maintaining some sense of normality during these strange pandemic times. I don't know about you, but I haven't left the county I live in since January to go see "Weathering with You" in Texas (closest major city to me) and I've gone as far as the local Target to purchase 90lbs of kitty litter. So, Wilson.

Wilson wakes up before his alarm. He’s usually like this when he knows he needs to get up early, the nervousness of sleeping in and being late always feeds his need to always do his best. It is still dark and he’s a bit disoriented as he recognizes that he’s not in his bedroom. 

Years ago, he perfected his early response to waking up in someone else’s place. He first stays still as his brain begins to wake up as to not disturb her and he gains his bearings so to speak. The air in the room has a pleasant coolness to it and the curtains keep the room dark yet his feet are quite warm – unusually warm. Warm as though someone is sleeping right next to them. A cat sized someone. 

Keith! Wow, he’s a friendly cat to decide to sleep on the bed and actually touch Wilson. Or perhaps Keith has determined that Wilson is a nice heat source; he recalls that Keith definitely likes to get close to him when possible for Keith’s own comfort. He then gingerly rolls over to his side to look at her. She appears out cold, curled up in the fetal position with her back to him with Keith also touching her legs. Her breath is slow and steady, and the soft humming glow of her clock radio is just beyond her. 

Huh, Wilson realizes something in this dark and silent hour, she’s got a very similar clock to House. Not exactly, he’s got just a flip alarm clock – she’s got the flip clock radio model with the faux wood outside casing, there is no way that was originally her clock, it has got to be from the 70s with that style. He lays on his side as he reads the time, 6:07 and the little flywheel spins making the optical illusion that part of the clock is spinning horizontal to him. There must be something about these hyper-rational people and some sort of trust in analog older technology . . . .

He then begins to wonder how she’ll interact with House for a longer time period, not speed dating, nor chasing them down the street. She may be able to hold her ground with House assuming he doesn’t piss her off, but he hasn’t yet. Not wanting to ponder this any further at this moment, he distracts himself as he starts to go through his schedule for the day. 

Due to his diligence, the Oncology Department is on track to have all of their paperwork in order and submitted on time today! Take that Mat Ward! It is finally time for another department to come to the top besides the Ob/Gyn team. He smiles to himself thinking about how his department will be at the top of the organization game; take that smug obstetricians and their bourgeoisie lounge. Most other departments have much more plebeian lounges that only get worn down more by House’s diagnostics team spending far too much time in them.

Already feeling good about his ability to gloat over Doctor Kim and her team, he thinks about what else he has to do. He’s got candy to hand out to all of the support staff, medical students, residents as well as any patients who look like they’d enjoy some. He’ll make sure to take House to lunch and of course let him ‘steal’ a considerable amount of candy from him. He’ll also have to make sure he’s home by about 6:30 since the condo association also does trick or treating for the kids in the building and he wants to make sure to be a good neighbor and hand out candy there too. 

Thankfully, House isn’t living with him anymore, so he won’t be around to terrify the kids; not by dressing up scary, but by saying insensitive things to turn them off the fun associated with the holiday. Years ago, when he was still married to Bonnie, he was in charge of candy duty. Bonnie was out of town, so in a rare moment of what appeared to be genuine compromise, House came over to his house to help with the distribution of candy to the masses. He should have been suspicious of how willing House was to help out, as expected, House critiqued/taunted/insulted the trick or treaters _and_ their parents. So much so, that most of the small humans and their minders were so upset that they turned down the candy! Free candy that Wilson had fretted over at the grocery store! Wilson was so upset since this was after he had first married Bonnie and he went all out to impress her and the neighbors (she did see the candy in the pantry before she went out of town). He bought the decently sized Hershey bars, not the little 4 flavor bite size ones, and his ‘decently sized bars’ were in the original milk chocolate, with almonds and cookies and cream. For anyone with an allergy to any of the ingredients to these he also got some fancy pre-packed Jelly Belly brand jellybeans in the classic fruit flavors.

He had put so much effort into things, he had carved several pumpkins, lined the walk up to his front porch, and even had some nice folding lawn chairs for him to House to sit on while they sipped some hot cocoa with [some] Bailey’s. As the evening progressed, he found that very few visitors were immune to House’s caustic touch and his ample candy supply moved barely at all from his elegantly arranged bowls. He eyed House with suspicion what his agenda was until during a gap, House reached into the bowl with the jellybeans and he tore open a package and dumped of them in his open mouth as he attempted to describe what it tasted like to have 6 plus flavors mingle at once. 

Wilson sighed and asked House to repeat what it tasted like after he was done chewing a giant wad of sugar, corn syrup, starch, natural flavors and unnatural color agents. House smiled back with his shit eating grin to reply that “It tastes like victory!” and he had no choice but to groan and hang his head. House’s unusual social call had nothing to do with Bonnie being out of town and everything about procuring the heaps of excess candy that he had generated – for himself. Wilson should have never told House about his quest to curate the best candy bowls on the block during lunch when he was prepping. At the end of the night, House accepted the extreme ‘burden’ of candy that Wilson had to get rid of, as Wilson and Bonnie were not going to eat all of it without feeling guilty. House couldn’t leave his best friend to do this . . . or that was what House said as he headed back to his apartment with a shopping bag full of his plunder. Come to think of it, it was around that time when one of the dessert plates disappeared from the China cabinet. . . .

Despite how well he had been ‘had’ by House, the memory makes him chuckle and a slightly audible giggle escapes followed by a sigh. However, his slight generation of noise seems to be just enough to rouse Keith from his slumber. He briefly glances at the clock, 6:31 and then only moves his eyes to look at Keith. The fluffy black and grey cat has changed from being a tightly curled ball to now laying partially on his back with his head and shoulders down while his stomach and legs are still on his side. More critically, Keith’s eyes are now open as he holds his front paws up in the air over him and he stares back at Wilson wide eyed. Normally, he’d think about how adorable Keith looks but it is clear that he is getting the recognition that it is almost time for breakfast. Wilson slowly moves himself to the edge of the bed while Keith maintains a target lock on him, and casually stretches out his front legs above his head. It then becomes a battle of wills, Wilson slowly extracts himself from the sheets while Keith just keeps looking at him.

The tension finally breaks when Keith yawns, one of those ginormous yawns where you can hear the pop of his jaw followed by a quick click of his mouth closing. Keith then licks his lips and sits up and begins to approach him. Once settled right next to a frozen, pretending to not be there Wilson, he mews brightly. 

Bringing his right index finger to his lips, Wilson attempts to shush Keith. This of course fails since Keith is not human and does not understand Wilson’s hushed body language nor the meaning of a “ssshh” sound. Instead, Keith mews again this time louder as he confidently approaches Wilson and begins to paw at his thighs through the blankets.

Wilson then desperately tries to reason with Keith, because in times of pressure, Wilson always resorts to words. “Keith, you have to be quiet.”, he whispers this as he leans down very close to Keith’s head. “She’s still sleeping” and he even indicates this by gesturing in her direction, “and I can’t help you out with what you want.” Unfortunately, Wilson’s perfected verbal skills are no match for a being who could care less and wants breakfast. Keith meows loudly enough that she wakes up.

She glances up toward her clock and mumbles something that sounds like, “Keith itz too early, issa 6:30.” But even that is a rough estimate of what may have been uttered. Keith then walks right up to her head on the pillow and begins to paw at her nose thus forcing her to sit up.

Wilson feels guilty, “Sorry, I woke Keith up.” He tells her this as she blinks at him a few times to process everything. 

“It’s fine, I’m going to feed Keith his breakfast now and go back to bed for a few minutes. Though maybe I’ll show you were the kibble is and next time you can feed him.” She had an evil grin on her face before she pulls herself out of bed on autopilot, and Keith follows her into the kitchen for breakfast.

It is earlier than he expected, but Wilson uses this chance to get in the shower. He follows his usual morning routine of ‘fancy’ personal care products. As he’s rinsing the shampoo out, the bathroom door opens and sure enough she announces her entry. “Just going pee!” and after a short time, she has excited the bathroom after a water temperature decreasing flush and a somewhat sarcastic “Sorry!” After a brief shiver, he conditions his hair, and lets it sit while he exfoliates. Finally, after rinsing out the conditioner, he turns off the shower, stepping out carefully onto the bathmat to make sure he doesn’t drip too much water elsewhere. 

He moisturizes all of his body save for his face and puts on underwear and a white t-shirt as an undershirt and begins to shave. Only after he has shaved, does he moisturize his face, apply cologne and deodorant and then his dress shirt does he leave to put on his pants. Today is a bold day for his outfit, much more so than usual, as he has a dark purple dress shirt and a bright orange striped tie. The tie has three shades of orange, a dark shade with a hint of brown undertone, a pumpkin orange and then one that is a lighter shade that has a bit of gold in it. This is his best option to appear more festive than usual.

Upon exiting the bathroom, he’s met with a smirk followed by, “Took you long enough. Coffee’s on the counter and there is cereal or yogurt.” And she enters her bathroom to start her relatively brief morning routine. Wilson of course ruffles his wet hair with his hand as he puts on his pants and also some matching orange socks. He quickly settles in the kitchen, pouring himself a cup of coffee and looks at her healthy adult cereal selection. After deciding on some Kashi wheat squares with berry filling, he adds a splash of milk to his coffee and more to the cereal, but not too much to make all of the cereal soggy at once. By time he’s done with his coffee and cereal she has long left the bathroom to finish getting dressed in her bedroom and he returns to blow dry his hair to achieve his signature look.

He gathers up all of his items into his overnight bag, remembers his phone charger and has all of his things in order. He’s all set to go, but he would like to be polite and tell her to have a good day before he heads into the office. 

* * *

You are woken by a loud meow and immediately, Wilson is apologizing for waking Keith. You are half awake as you reply that you are going to feed Keith and go back to bed, but not without the threat of showing Wilson how to feed Keith himself.

You go back to bed until your alarm goes off at 7 while Wilson appears to hop in the shower and begin his elaborate grooming routine. As you had warned, you enter the bathroom while he’s still showering to urinate and start some coffee and have cold cereal for breakfast. You leave the French Press half full of coffee on the counter, wash off your used bowl and wait for Wilson to exit the bathroom so you can get ready.

He finally emerges, though not ready yet! He’s got a dark purple dress shirt with a seasonally appropriate tie, over his boxers, but wet hair and no pants. You give him a bit of a hard time but soften the blow by informing him of the coffee and breakfast selection. 

After your streamlined and efficient bathroom routine of brushing your teeth, washing and moisturizing your face, you are off to put on your outfit for the day. As it is Halloween, you’ve decided to dress up, but nothing too radical for work. You have slowly collected all of the components for a decent 13th Doctor outfit, including hemming a pair of blue wool pants you found used online. Since the weather is fairly cool for the day with a high of the low 50s but sunny, you add on a white long sleeve undershirt and put your teal rainbow striped t-shirt over it, blue striped socks and clip on a pair of yellow suspenders. You complete the look with a replica of her long open trench coat and grab a blonde wig to put on once you’ve parked your car at work, since you find driving in a wig to be distracting.

You pop out of your bedroom to find Wilson hovering in your living room all of his stuff packed up and ready to go. He shoves his hands in his pockets as he smiles. “Wanted to make sure to see you before I left.” He says this with a politeness that it hits you right in the feels. You approach him as he leans forward to give you a hug and a quick peck on the cheek and you still blush even though you should be used to his level of affection. Or at least not surprised by it but you only manage an awkward, “Thanks.” Before blushing more. He smiles as he moves to put on his dress shoes over his orange socks and his light scarf and coat.

“Have a good day at work and a Happy Halloween!” he then cocks his head as he begins to realize something . . . “Are you dressed up?” and his face becomes puzzled as he isn’t sure about his observations.

“Oh yes, I am, I guess you aren’t familiar. I’m the Doctor, well the 13th Doctor.” You then hold up the wig that you had shoved in your coat pocket. “Oh here’s my wig if that helps.”

He shrugs a bit as his brain tries to determine what you are saying . . . “Doctor? What sort . . .” he trails off for a second before he thinks he understands “Is this a Doctor Who thing? If so, I haven’t paid attention since the 80s. I thought the Doctor was played by that tall British guy, David Tennant?”

You relax and reply, “David Tennant was three Doctors ago, the current Doctor is played by Jodie Whittaker and she’s quite good.” 

Wilson then smiles, “Okay, I’ve learned something, though my pop culture knowledge is pretty bad.”

You then realize that Wilson is just dressed normally, and you have a sudden thought. “Just a minute, let me grab something really quick!” and you dash back into your room and dig through a dresser drawer. Wilson is left standing at your door perplexed, but you return to find him waiting patiently.

“Tadaa!” Upon your declaration of triumph, you reach up and put a headband with black cat ears on Wilson’s well styled hair making sure to floof the hair on either side of the headband so only the ears are poking up.

Wilson seems confused at first. “You want me to wear cat ears to work?” He looks severely serious at you and his brow is furrowed. 

“Yeah. I think they look rather fetching. It just makes you a well dressed cat-doctor. Doctor-cat. Whatever.” You beam as you look into his eyes before you sneak a quick kiss on the lips that catches him by surprise.

“Go on now, I can tell you are ready to head off.” And you give him a slight nudge towards your door, and he shuffles along.

He smiles hesitantly, “Okay, I’ll wear them to work, but I can’t promise they will stay on all day. Bye!” and with that he’s out the door and you shut it behind him. You then begin to pack your bag for the day and make sure to pack your lunch before, putting on a pair of ankle height brown boots and bidding good-bye to Keith as you head out to your car to drive into work.

When you arrive at work, you take a few minutes to put on your blonde wig in the car after securing your hair with a wig cap. It takes a little bit of adjustment and sure enough you head into the office, and several people smile as they see your outfit. A few team members remark that it is a clever costume since all of the clothing is normal and you are able to put a lab coat over it with little issue. It is a nice ice breaker and a few people use it as an excuse to talk to you about Doctor Who and you are able to feel a bit more welcome in the department.

Around 4pm, all of the Plant Biology team members take a coffee break for some sugar cookies decorated like pumpkins, cats and witch hats as well as for those feeling healthy some veggies and hummus. It is around that time the postdoc Zhou is showing some pictures on his phone to others who are smiling and laughing. You and a few others mingle with his group and he’s proudly showing pictures of his kids with his wife at work. She took them around in their costumes to say hi to some of the patients and she sent a few of the pictures. His kids are dressed up as a nurse and a green crayon. As he scrolls through you see them smiling, missing teeth and all, with a few older patients; with members of the nursing staff, a secretary and – you almost gasp – a photo with Wilson and a few nurses! You bring your hand to your mouth to cover your grin as Wilson is grinning proudly as he wears his cat ears along with his white coat over his dress shirt and tie. 

Zhou glances up at you in response to your gasp, and before he says anything, you decide to beat him to the punch. “Those are some adorable pictures of your kids, I’m glad to see that they brought a smile to so many people’s faces.” And with that you take a bite out of a cookie.

His eyes narrow as he thinks a little too long before replying, “Thank you. I spent a lot of time helping them to make their costumes this year and I’m proud of them for bringing happiness to others.” 

As it gets closer to 5, everyone disperses back to the lab or office to wrap up a few things before heading out the door. You drive home, feed Keith his exciting supper of kibble with some chopped tomato while you have some Indian take out from Bombay (good suggestion House). As it becomes dark, you put candles into both of the pumpkins and you dim the lights and settle in on the couch to watch “It’s the Great Pumpkin Charlie Brown” with some herbal tea and a few pumpkin brownies that one of your Doctor Who loving co-workers, Matt offered you.

The day ends quietly, and you shower, change and head to bed with your constant floofy companion ready for the next day of work.

* * *

Wilson heads to his car parked on the street walking a bit nervously with the gifted cat ears on his head. He only is able to take a look at them once he’s seated in the driver’s seat and he pulls down his visor and lifts open the mirror to take a better look.

As he turns his head from side to side, the ears don’t look bad, his hair is thick enough that they appear natural-ish and they do look a little bit cute. But he still feels a bit awkward since these weren’t his idea. Sure, he’ll wear reindeer antlers for Christmas, so it isn’t that he’s against tacky . . . maybe he’s against someone else making him appear tacky?  
  
Either way, he takes a deep breath to strengthen his resolve and he puts his keys in the ignition and starts the car. He listens to NPR on his drive to PPTH and makes sure to haul in all of the candy for distribution today. With is large gait he walks quickly from the parking garage into the hospital and greets the main desk staff on his way to his office. “Good morning and Happy Halloween!” he says this with a smile and the front desk crew respond with smiles and several of the nurses and receptionists reply warmly also wearing festive head wear. One nurse has a full witch hat on her head while two others have animal ears, rabbit and mouse. 

He relaxes a bit as it seems that festive headgear is trendy this year, so he doesn’t look that out of place. As he walks by Taub and Foreman in the hallway, they both greet him normally and Chase and Thirteen are just exiting Diagnostics to head to check in on their newest patient. Again, they both react normally to him and Chase even compliments him on his “nice ears” and he figures that it must just be a part of Wilson being a nice and festive member of the Princeton-Plainsboro staff.

The morning goes quickly as he wraps up any remaining paperwork and by time lunch rolls around he finds himself heading towards Diagnostics. The team is around the table discussing the items on the famous white board as they are clearly in disagreement over the interpretation of some test results and the symptoms of the patient. He opens the door and House turns to him, with a slight look of surprise. “Wilson, perfect timing! I’m off to have some lunch with Wilson now. You guys go back and redo the PCR and this time include the patient’s most recent sample, along with the sample you took two days ago. Don’t forget the negative and positive controls! The fact that the positive controls failed indicates to me that the dNTPs are off, so open a fresh tube as well.” House says all of this after making a quick smirk towards Wilson before leaning back in his chair as he gives his team their orders. 

There is a quick dirty look between Taub and Thirteen as Taub whispers, “I told you so, that tube was from June.” Thirteen just crosses her arms over her chest and pouts not ready to argue back about the reagent issue. 

House has slowly ambled over to the door where Wilson waits patiently for him to walk through as they head down to the café. Wilson listens to House as he updates him on the current patient’s status and an inconclusive PCR result. House doesn’t actually think the PCR will tell them anything other than that Foreman’s theory is wrong and that they will have to wait until the patient presents with another symptom. 

Wilson nods along, interested in what House thinks about the case as they enter the queue where he gets the quiche of the day, with a side of pumpkin soup and House orders a grilled cheese, tomato soup and of course fries for both of them. Wilson reaches for his wallet to pay for both of them, second nature to himself as well as to all of the cashiers, who know that when both of them are together, Wilson pays. “Nice ears, Doctor Wilson.” The cashier says this with a smile and he replies with a humble “Thank you.”

As they begin to eat, House finally addresses his ears. He points at Wilson’s head in a general direction with a single French fry, “I see you are physically participating in the festivities more than usual this year. I wouldn’t have pegged you to be a cat ear kinda guy, but you have owned several cats.” 

Wilson points up to the ears with his soup spoon, “Well you know me, I’ve already got a few bags of candy to dole out later today to staff in oncology as well as patients.” He returns to his soup before looking back up at House. His best friend is staring directly at him as he doesn’t even look at the fries that he delivers into his mouth; House is trying to determine what the cat ears mean.

Wilson is unsure how to respond, if he continues to explain the ears, House will become suspicious. If he ignores the ears, House will become suspicious. It is a lose-lose situation when it comes to House’s curiosity and powers of deduction. Either way, he has to commit to his game plan, he ignores any further mention of the ears and changes the subject to what House will do later tonight. 

After dunking his grilled cheese in the tomato soup, he takes an exuberant bite and appears to deeply contemplate Wilson’s question even though he damn well knows what he’ll do. “Eh, I think I’ll settle in with some Vietnamese take out from that new place you went to a few weeks ago and watch the Charlie Brown Halloween special. There is nothing like a children’s holiday special that is based on disappointment due to a flawed belief in a cucurbit-centric higher power.” House then looks off into the distance and smiles to himself. 

Wilson finishes his lunch and leaves House behind as he still seems to be pondering Linus’s flawed religious belief in the Great Pumpkin. He then grabs most of his candy (leaving that ‘small’ bit behind in the office for House to steal) and heads off to do his oncology rounds. The candy is offered to various oncology patients as he goes from room to room, and heads to the secretaries. Susan Ngo is in a good mood wearing a cute witch hat and a black cloak over her clothing. “Looks like good weather for trick or treating tonight.” He says this with a smile to her as he offers the candy to her. 

“Oh yes, I’m so relived it is a beautiful day, with no rain. I’ll just take one little Hersey bar . . .” Susan replies with a lovely glow and she gingerly removes the single candy. “Thanks Doctor Wilson and nice ears.” 

He makes sure to smile back to her and shrugs, “Thanks Susan. Enjoy your evening later today.” With that he’s off to the oncology nurses who greet him with smiles. As expected, the two that appear to have crushes on him both thank him for the candy and they both make an effort to tell him that his ears either look cute (the quiet guy) or that they look sexy (the chestnut brown hair girl). He of course thanks both of them and begins to understand why she gave him the cat ears to wear. They actually look good on him and people seem to genuinely appreciate them.

Around 3, Nurse Diaz comes through the ward with her kids in costume, her son is dressed up like a nurse and her daughter is a green Crayola crayon. They are pretty cute looking. Wilson chats a little with the nurses and he agrees to a photo with a few of the oncology nurses and her kids. After exhausting his supply of candy and socializing, Wilson returns to his office. 

Sure enough, the candy he left on his desk is gone and instead there is a small bag filled with rocks, a direct reference to the Charlie Brown special. He wraps up the day with emails and then calls for some take out from Bamboo Garden. He swings by the Diagnostics office; Chase has changed clothing so that he looks like a stereotypical surfer and is off to clearly hit the bars and party tonight while the rest of the team head home. He finds House stuffing a handful of his loot into his mouth as he enters House’s office from the side door.

“I see your raid was successful. Enjoy your evening House.” Wilson nods to him as he begins to open the door of House’s office to the hall. 

“You too Wilson. Are you going to take your ears off anytime soon or are they going to become permanent as another tool for picking up emotionally vulnerable nurses? The gossip I heard today about your adorable kitty ears was next level.” House is trying to give him a hard time, but this isn’t anything new.

He strokes the ears with his left hand while he glances back at House through the doorway. “I don’t know House. I kinda like them, I think they match my hair pretty well.” With that he saunters out into the hallway and continues with his back turned to House, “Night House! Enjoy your animated special highlighted by disappointment for a bald boy and his best friend’s faith in a Pumpkin deity.”

House replies as the door swings shut. “Night Wilson.”

Wilson leaves the hospital with a smile on his face and nods to all of those on his way out. He has embraced the full magic powers of the cat ears and he’s owning them now. After picking up his take-out from Bamboo Garden of some sweet and sour chicken, rice and stir-fried veggies, he finds himself opening a beer in his kitchen and eating half of the takeout before heading down to the condo trick or treat event. A few of the residents made a fun haunted house in the activities room and gym. Due to his cat ears, he’s assigned to the candy duty outside of the house and he enjoys his time helping out with the other people there. 

After all of the kids have gone through the house, everyone gathers for cupcakes and beverages, apple cider for those below the legal age while many of his fellow upper middle-class residents indulge in the hard cider or mulled wine. This gives him a chance to talk with many of his neighbors who avoided him during House’s tenure with him and several single women flirt with him, again complimenting him on his ears. 

He’s finally able to excuse himself since he’ll be on call tomorrow, so he wants to retire relatively early. Several pairs of eyes linger on him and he again feels confident in himself. Only upon re-entering his place does he finally remove the cat ears. As he twirls them in between his fingers, he smiles. He was so opposed to them this morning, but man, they were a great idea. He’ll definitely have to make it up to her this weekend after the dance.

* * *

Thursday is relatively slow, as many of your colleagues seem to be suffering from literal hangovers or small human induced candy hangovers (or maybe both). The only thing unusual is that your boss isn’t in yet, as she is always punctually in at 8:35am. 

While you are eating your lunch, another supervisor comes in search of you. Apparently, your boss broke her ankle while out trick or treating with her children last night. Something about tripping over a cape at the same time as stepping over a curb. As she’s stuck at Princeton-Plainsboro in the ER getting a cast and some follow up tests, she’s unable to participate in the meeting tomorrow in Philadelphia. 

Even though it is last minute, she has replayed the information that she’d like you to cover for her, but it would mean heading down to Philly this afternoon to have dinner with key members from the work group and go over some information with them before the meeting all day tomorrow. Since she was expected to attend the meetings this evening and all-day tomorrow, she had booked a hotel room for tonight. You can use her hotel room so that you at least don’t have to drive back and forth both days.

It is unexpected for sure, especially since you weren’t expecting her to select you as a new team member. But it would be a good opportunity for you get a leg up here. 

You reply that you’ll do it, but you would need to leave early to pack an overnight bag and figure out what to do with Keith. The supervisor gives you a nod of approval and you can leave at 2:30 to pack and have enough time to make it to the meeting. Thankfully, the hotel room is at the same hotel/small conference center as tomorrow’s meeting. The only issue is Keith, as you aren’t expected to get back until after 8pm. You could ask the building manager to feed him, but that would be twice in a few weeks. You could ask Wilson; he seems to like Keith enough.

As you are on your way out of the office to your car, you give him a call. Just as you think you are going to be kicked to his voicemail, he picks up and immediately sounding concerned at your unexpected call.

“Hey Doctor James Wilson, can you do me a big favor?” you try your best to keep it light. 

“Is everything okay? It is unusual for you to call in the afternoon.” he hasn’t lost the concern from when he first picked up the phone in his voice.

“Don’t worry, I’m fine. My boss broke her ankle and I have to cover for her. Unfortunately, I need to be on the road to Philly by 3 today to make it to a bunch of meetings.” You give him a chance to calm down.

“Oh, that’s good. I was worried there. So, what is this big favor?” he still seems concerned, but his tension is gone from his voice.

“I need you to feed Keith, tonight, tomorrow morning and tomorrow night. Instead of heading down to Philly early tomorrow morning with the work carpool, I’ll be staying in the hotel tonight in Philly.” You then wait nervously for his reply as you approach your parked car.

“I can totally do that. I’m on call at PPTH tonight, but I’m sure I can fit in the time to feed Keith!” He replies with confidence and you are certain he’s got at least his right hand on his hip.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you. I can swing by the hospital to drop off the spare keys on the way to I-295 from my place. How should I hand off the keys?” You are greatly relieved, and now your biggest concern is the transfer of your spare keys.

Wilson hesitates as he thinks over the phone, “Just drive up to the drop off point at the front of the hospital. Call me when you are leaving your apartment and I’ll be waiting there.”

With the logistics sorted out, you thank him again and let him go. You unlock your car, and before you know it, you are at home, throwing items in an overnight bag as well as all of your work paperwork. Keith has come out to investigate, sniffing things as you are at home at the wrong time for a workday. He nervously glances at the overnight bag; he knows that it means you are leaving him. As a rescue he’s always nervous about such things even though you always do come back. Packed and ready, you give him some pets on the head and let him know that you’ll be back tomorrow and to not worry since Wilson will be taking care of him.

As Wilson requested you call him as you are leaving your place and on your way to the drop off point at the Princeton-Plainsboro Teaching Hospital. Tentatively you pull into the drop off point outside of the main doors. Immediately, the doors open, and Wilson quickly walks out and you put the car in park. He’s wearing a white doctor’s coat over his usual clothing, a red and blue striped tie, navy blue pants and a light pink dress shirt. Instead, of approaching the passenger side window, he walks in front of the car and around to the driver’s side window. You roll down the window and he smiles at you. 

“Hey, sorry for the rapid pick up, but I’ve got a meeting in 5 minutes!” he looks a little flushed like he rushed to meet you from something else.

You hand the spare keys and your door code written on a piece of paper over to him as you reply. “Thank you so much! I really appreciate it. I’ll be back after 8pm tomorrow so Keith just needs ¼ of kibble tonight, tomorrow for breakfast and then around suppertime.”

You are relieved but also anxious to get on the road to beat rush hour traffic to the meeting.

Wilson smiles as he takes the keys from you. He then leans in gives you a quick kiss on the cheek. Before you know it, he’s already pulled back. “Drive safely and let me know that you made it there safely and let me know when you get back tomorrow.” He waves good-bye as he rapidly walks in front of your car and back into the building.

With that you are off to the I-295, to I-95 south. About an hour later you make it to the hotel for the work meetings, check in, get the car parked and put on your best extrovert face and dive into the meetings. Right before the first meeting with the group leading the short retreat tomorrow, you send Wilson a quick text.

_Arrived safely to the hotel and just about to start meetings. Give Keith lots of pets for me. Thanks!_

* * *

House’s Wilson sense has been tingling since yesterday and his cute cat ear publicity stunt. He’s on heightened alert for anything Wilson related. The team is looking pretty ragged today; Chase is showing the signs of a late night of alcohol and no strings attached sex, Foreman is stewing since his diagnosis from yesterday was incorrect and Taub and Thirteen are just trying to ignore their disgruntled colleagues.

Wilson is back to his usual schedule of, patient consults, oncology rounds, and clinic duty so he’s likely to be flitting about here and there throughout the day. Stuck on his current case House decides he needs to roam the halls of the hospital mulling things over until he can gain a new perspective on the current symptoms and inconclusive test results. A few of the nurses in the main desk are chatting and Wilson’s name is mentioned in the gossip, about how cute he looked with his cat ears and a few people were wondering if he was seeing someone. He’s seemed a bit more charming than usual recently.

Still stuck he eventually stalks Wilson outside of the Clinic. Cuddy notices him on the way out of her office looking like a dog waiting for his owner to return home. 

“He’s with his last patient of the day. I’m sure he’ll be ready for lunch in a few.” Cuddy says this as she walks by the silently stewing House.

Unable to resist his natural response to say something in response. “Oh, this had better be his last patient, or I’ll make sure to page him out of the Clinic if he isn’t done in the 5 minutes.” He leans heavily on his cane towards Cuddy. 

“If I’m not mistaken you have clinic duty later today, so you can’t use Wilson as an escape plan. He’s already gotten the memo to deliver you to the Clinic at 1pm sharp.” And with the powerful click-clack of her heels, Cuddy has left the lobby and is on her way to have lunch off hospital grounds.

As if on cue, Wilson emerges from Exam Room 2 with a chart and chatting friendly with a patient, a male in his early 20s. The patient heads to reception to check out and Wilson completes his paperwork and clocks out of his duty. 

He notices House hovering outside of the doors, waves and heads over to House.

“Lunch? I brought some leftovers, but I could go for some fries.” Wilson nods to House and the two of them head in the direction of his office so that he can pick up his leftovers and they meander to the cafeteria. House orders fries for both of them and a Ruben, while Wilson only picks up a yogurt and coffee. As usual, House heads to one of their corner tables with the tray while Wilson pays for both of them. House watches him closely, Wilson smiles and chats with a few of the nurses while he waits for his leftover Chinese takeout to warm up in the microwave. He’s 100% certain of it, Wilson is giving off, I’m in a relationship vibe as everyone around him seems more interested than usual. That’s how things work for him, when Wilson is at his most desirable, he’s always in a relationship with someone.

With his environmentally safe glass container, Wilson sits down at their table asking House about his case. 

House is hoping that Wilson will say something that sparks an epiphany about his case over lunch, but he can’t actually tell Wilson what he needs him for. Despite directly asking for ideas from Wilson, he’s at a loss and eventually switches topics. “That’s a rather bold clothing choice again.” House says this as he wiggles his eyebrows suggestively across the table at Wilson. 

It immediately illicits a trademark Wilson eye roll, “Oh, so today you are commenting on my clothing choice for being bright, when all you were interested in yesterday were my Halloween appropriate cat ears. What’s wrong with my pink shirt and navy suit?”

House slurps on his fountain drink, as he gives Wilson the ‘look’. After a burp, he continues, “All of the signs are there, Doctor James Wilson is in a relationship. The colorful clothing, the friendly demeanor turned up to 11. And let’s not forget the talk of the town, Wilson’s adorable cat ears.”

Wilson’s reaction to House’s conclusion is fleeting before he regains his composure and a witty remark. “Oh, I see what this is, you are jealous that there is nothing that you can to do to become endearing enough.” He emphasizes his point by sweeping his hand at others in the room.

House deflects Wilson’s truth, “Pffftt, as if I’d care about if my colleagues would call me cute. Goes against the image that I have perfected over the years.”

Pushing his advantage, Wilson digs in further, “I see Chase was in pretty rough shape this morning, I’m sure you felt the need to make him suffer more than the rest of your team since he went out and scored some action last night.” Wilson’s got that mischievous sparkle in his eye knowing that he’s right and there is nothing House can do.

House rolls his eyes in response as he chews on the plastic straw in his now empty cup. As often occurs with these two, just before they are about to push things too far, they reach a détente where they just leave things hanging. Even though House’s antics can bet a bit much, ever since he returned from rehab, he’s been better at giving Wilson the boundaries that he appreciates and vice versa.

The rest of their conversation revolves around Wilson’s condo association Halloween festivities and House’s 34th viewing of “It’s the Great Pumpkin Charlie Brown”. He did start watching it from the age of 7, but due to his frequent moves as a military brat and some on call shifts in med school, he couldn’t manage to watch it all the time. Either, way he always enjoys it and notices something new each time he watches it. 

Wilson gives him the update on the condo party and House tries to remember some of the people he met while living there but it is mainly hopeless, but he at least tried to remember this time.

As they wrap up lunch, Wilson makes sure to escort House down to the Clinic to perform his obligatory duty.

While in the Clinic, House finds some of his banal patients to be a little more exciting than usual. While returning a patient file before picking up his next one, he immediately notices Wilson on his phone in the main lobby. This is highly unusual as Wilson never uses his cell phone at work. He can even tell from this distance that he’s worried. Wilson has the phone to his left ear and his right hand is moving in board strokes, a sure sign he’s concerned. House would love to keep working, but Thirteen has placed the next patient file in his hands and she even calls the patient to go with House into Exam Room 1.

Just around 3, House emerges from the drudgery of the 50th circle of hell known as mandatory clinic duty to see Wilson dash out the lobby towards the drop off point. Too curious to stop himself, House excuses himself to use the bathroom and pick up some of his strong non-addictive painkillers he keeps in his office. He stealthily moves behind one of the pillars and watches Wilson from a far. He’s waiting just inside the door looking out expecting someone. After about 2 minutes of waiting, he exits the main doors and House moves as quickly as possible to watch Wilson through the doors. 

Wilson walks up to a small car and speaks to the woman as she rolls down the window and hands something small over to him, keys perhaps. She looks vaguely familiar, but he can’t place her at the moment. House is practically leaning into the window trying to see things as well as possible; he gets the evidence he needs as he watches. Wilson leans into the window and gives her a quick kiss before shoving his hands into his pockets and walking quickly back to the main office. To avoid detection, House quickly hobbles back to the Clinic and accepts the next patient to make sure he’s out of the visual range. He just catches a glimpse of Wilson’s lanky frame walk through the lobby, his white coat fluttering behind him, her keys now in his pockets.

It is just at that moment that it strikes him, it is the key, or well it is how the lock and key interact. He yells as Thirteen as she comes out into the Clinic waiting room. 

“I’ve got, it, I know what’s wrong with our patient. He’s got an enzyme mutation, but he’s heterozygous for it. He’s got one functional wild-type allele but the other has a mutation in the enzyme active site decreasing activity.”

House looks excited and relived as he tells the entire waiting room his orders.

“Order the recombinant version of the enzyme and begin treatment! if he begins to show improvement, we can determine what is the best course of action, genotype him and if our patient can adjust his diet to work with his natural deficiency.”

He turns to pick up the next patient file and instructs her to join him in Exam Room 1. He smiles to himself and mutters a "Thanks Wilson" as he thinks about what he's going to do next . . .

* * *

With her key code to enter the building, Wilson unlocks the lobby door and heads up to her apartment to feed Keith. As soon as the key enters the door, he’s greeted with an excited meow and Keith rubs his legs ready for supper.

He refills the water dish, aliquots out the ¼ cup of dry kibble and checks the litter box, scooping it for good measure and runs down to the waste containers around back to dispose of it. Making sure everything is good, he settles in for a bit letting Keith come to join him on the couch as he turns on the TV. Keith seems excited to see him, and quickly settles off to his side with his chin resting on his thigh as he falls asleep.

Wilson checks his watch; he’ll stick with Keith for a bit keeping him company before he swings by PPTH around 8 to do rounds before returning to his place to keep his pager close by on call.

After everything is squared away, he gets home around 10pm exhausted; he undresses, putting the suit on a hanger to take to the dry cleaner tomorrow with his wool suit for Saturday. He showers and heads to bed and has a rare evening of no emergency calls from oncology.

As a result, he wakes up refreshed and ready for a regular workday and a board meeting at the end of the day. He hums as he makes some oatmeal and his coffee brews. Even though he doesn’t need to return the apartment keys today, he figures he’ll surprise her when she gets back to her apartment to hand the keys over directly and spend the night. A mini-work conference/workshop is always a stressful event. He could give her a back rub to help her relax . . .

He’s mapped out his outfit of the day, it is colder so it will be his trusty v-neck sweater, tie, dress shirt and suit. A dark grey suit goes well with a forest green sweater, cream shirt and a grey, purple and green striped tie. His personal care routine is going swimmingly well until he goes to pull his hair dryer out of its drawer in the bathroom cabinet. Instead of finding the hair dryer, all that remains is a small piece of paper folded a few times in its place. Half-dressed and with wet hair, he unfolds what is clearly a random note make from random newspaper and magazine clippings and a glue stick. 

_If_ yOU WaNt TO _see_ YOUR Belove _D_ hair DRYer A _gain_

DO nothING until YOU hear FRom US

THE code wORd is:

 _Cat_ ears

Wilson sighs heavily. House. Well, it was only a matter of time before he’d be pranked back for the guitar kidnapping 2 years ago. The greater question on Wilson’s mind is what was the trigger for the hair dryer kidnapping? 

House must have come to the condo last night while he was doing his late evening rounds. And can he really be shocked by this? No, since House has his own copy of the key in case of emergencies. And, House knew Wilson was on call. And, House knows Wilson’s anal-retentive schedule for how he works when he is on call.

If he were a normal person, Wilson would be able to run out to any of the major drugstore chains to pick up a random hair dryer and use it. But Wilson is not normal in regard to his hair care. His go to blow dryer is one of the special models sold only at stores like Sephora and he doesn’t have an immediate solution to his problem. Furthermore, it would be stupid to purchase another $150 hair dryer to only get his current one back from House. 

He never intended to have such a high-end blow dryer, but it again went back to his married days. Bonnie had one and he had started using hers and he was impressed with the performance. You could even say that he was blown away by its performance. It really delivered key hair styling results and he was sad to see it go when they separated and subsequently divorced. He’s still haunted by his forced trip to the mall to go into the Sephora surrounded by very polished looking women. Upon discovery of the blow dryer in the store, he grabbed the box and quickly made a beeline to the register. Unfortunately, the store was busy on a Saturday afternoon, and several women in line noticed the high-end box and began to comment on it. 

“Oh, someone is getting a really nice present?” “What’s the occasion? I’m sure she’ll like it!”

Surrounded by excited and jealous women in line, he felt trapped, gripping the box tighter between his hands. He’d have to respond to the inquiries as the only male in the line for the register currently. As a recently separated and about to be divorced individual, the last thing he wanted was to chit chat with so many lovely women.

“It is her birthday. Her current blow dryer is on its last legs and I heard this one is very good. You know, for drying hair.” He looks down at a spot on the floor unable to make eye contact until the lie is fully delivered.

With their questions answered, the women than continued with random small talk with him until he was able to reach the cashier at the register. She too remarks on his purchase and how someone is going to be very pleased with it. She doesn’t know that _he’s_ the person who is pleased with the product. Once it is paid for and bagged, he kindly thanks the woman for her assistance and quickly exits the store, and rapidly continues onto his car to get his purchase home.

With his newest personal appliance, he was able to return to his ideal grooming routine. He also did like being able to test out all of the free product samples that were placed in the bag. He had no use for any of the make-up samples, but he did discover an excellent facial moisturizer that he still uses today, though he buys it online and has it set to auto order based on his use.

Snapped back to reality, Wilson realizes that he’ll just have go do his best to deal with his hair today and figure out what the hell House wants from him. He towels his hair as well as he can, and decides he’ll style it after he gets dressed and do the best he can with his thick and wavy hair.

Remembering that she has a hair dryer as well, he decides he’ll use it when he goes over this morning to feed Keith his breakfast. Grabbing a few hair care products and his brush, he tosses them in his briefcase and looking at the time, dashes out the door, he’s got early morning clinic duty.

After feeding Keith, he realizes that he has a captive audience as Keith watches him desperately try to style his hair. Sadly, her hair dryer has less control than his, and he finds his hair floofing out and his brush only makes it worse! Realizing that he’s been defeated for the time being, he puts some product in, and he’s stuck with his hair with uneven volume and it looks funny due to his copious use of product. It definitely won’t have his signature wave with that little bit of bounce with enough flow that it can hang just a touch over his forehead. . . .

With his admission of defeat, he hastily exits as Keith gives him a few rubs for good measure before, he is out the door at off to work.

After finishing up his clinic duty, he heads to the Diagnostics office. House’s diagnosis must have been correct as House and his team are nowhere to be found and the conference table is a complete mess. The only person he caught a glimpse was Chase performing his preferred Friday morning clinic shift who went out for lunch with Singh. 

Anticipating a late House, he goes down to the café to get a Ruben with fries and settles down to eat it at House’s desk as he awaits his arrival. House doesn’t show up at 12:30 and he begins to determine his best course of action. 

He returns to his office but left half a plate of the fries at House’s desk in case he shows up in the near future. As he begins to respond to emails, his phone rings. The caller ID indicates it is Thirteen, he picks it up with hesitation, she’d have no reason to call him unless it were an emergency.

A distorted voice speaks to him. 

_“We first off would like to inform you that your precious item is unharmed. Though if you do not follow your instructions, it will be in danger. Do you understand?”_

Wilson responds to the game, “Yes, I understand.”

The distorted voice continues, “ _Good. What was the password that was provided to you?”_

He rolls his eyes as he responds, “Cat ears.”

“ _Excellent, you have confirmed your identity._ ” The voice tries to reign in its excitement, _“These are your current instructions. You are to procure the underwear of the Dean of Medicine, Doctor Lisa Cuddy along with a Ruben with no pickles, a side of fries. These items will be placed in an unmarked box on the desk of a Doctor Gregory House. Upon delivery, Doctor House will hand over your next set of instructions. Make sure the items are delivered by 1:30pm EST.”_

Wilson hangs his head as House really isn’t being too crazy with his antics, but it is clear that this is not a serious threat, more that House wants to get Wilson distracted to learn something.

The first thing he does is call Cuddy to inform her of House’s threat and she gladly provides a spare pair of underwear to him. Apparently, after his antics a few years ago with the research fellows, she brought in old underwear, put it in a drawer in her desk ready for any more of House’s insane ideas or requests. She secretly has been wanting to use it to her advantage against House and it looks like this is one of those times. He has yet to fully understand the relationship between House and Cuddy other than that it is majorly weird getting weirder.

He swings by the loading dock to get an empty box and heads up to the cafeteria to buy another Ruben and fries. With careful precision, he puts the food and the underwear in the box and walks into House’s office at 1:20. Sure enough House is nibbling on the cold fries while he types away on his desktop computer. 

House tries his best to look surprised as Wilson enters with the mystery box. 

Wilson clears his throat as he approaches. “Cat ears. Here is the package for you.”

Again, House feigns some surprise as he opens the box to find, his ideal temperature sandwhich and freshly made fries. He with great care removes the underwear, his blue eyes wide and definitely excited by them.

Wordlessly, House opens a desk drawer and hands over a small white letter sized envelope to him. “I got a random anonymous email this morning. If you were to deliver a Ruben with fries and Cuddy’s underwear to me, I was instructed to hand you this unlabeled envelope. I don’t know what mess you’ve gotten yourself mixed up in Wilson, but I suspect you will have to explain the things that you’ve been hiding from me soon enough. Like that illegal cat grooming service that you are running on the side.”

Wilson shoves the envelope in his pocket and puts his hands on his hips before replying carefully, “Well, I’m certain this mix up will resolve itself soon enough. I’ve got a few consults before the monthly board meeting, so I’ll see you later House.”

He spins on his heels and walks back to his office and distractedly performs his consults, but it isn’t like anyone else notices that he’s off. His ability to slide into customer service nice is a saving grace. 

During the board meeting he’s able to open the envelope while Doctors Kim and Smith have a rather heated debate about space allocation. The situation is over whether or not a small space should be converted into a small office for rotating medical students use between shifts or if it should be converted to a lactation room. Interestingly, Kim is arguing for the student use while Smith seems to take the side of creating a lactation room.

Discreetly, Wilson opens the envelope and finds a piece of paper were a set of numbers have been typed up with a manual typewriter. The first two sets of number are clearly a pair, he’s not 100% certain, but they look like latitude and longitude coordinates. The other set of numbers is a time, 19:00 followed by tomorrow’s date, 3 November. So, House wants him to be at this location at 7pm tomorrow. That is when they were going to go to the swing dance . . . he’ll have to figure out where this location is first. 

He jots a few notes to himself with his pen when his train of thought is disrupted by Cuddy addressing him.

“Huh, what was that sorry, I was lost in thought.” He has a bit of a deer in headlights look as he glances around the room.

“As I was asking you, Doctor Wilson, how to you feel about Doctor Kim’s and Doctor Smith’s proposals for room 423?”

He ruffles his messy hair making it only worse as he quickly pivots his train of thought. “I think both of their proposals are valid. I think we should do a survey of potential users, see how many staff would like to have a lactation room and also identify if our medical students have enough break rooms. Having hard numbers is the best way to make a decision.”

Kim and Smith both nod in agreement and Wilson makes the motion that a survey be conducted for user needs. It is quickly seconded, and the rest of the business is quickly addressed. At the end of the meeting, he remains seated as he inputs the coordinates into his map application on his phone. He is surprised at what he finds. It is the location of the local community center where the swing dance will be tomorrow night. 

It looks like House is curious to see him in action tomorrow night. Or more likely, he wants to see who Wilson is dating and this is a typical House way to see her. Well, the one thing Wilson has learned over the years, it is that his relationships are better off not known about by House for as long as possible. At least House is being considerate enough to overlap his curiosity with Wilson’s schedule instead of trying to vie for his attention over that of the person he’s seeing at the moment. 

With that Wilson cocks his head in thought and smiles to himself, it seems like House’s therapist is helping him to recognize how to compromise in a way that House can accept. Feeling both exhausted and a little more settled, he decides on another night of take out. Not great for his waistline, but he’s still a bit frazzled from Houses antics. On the way to feed Keith, he picks up his dry cleaning, grabs some clothing for tomorrow, putting it in his overnight bag before he picks up his Vietnamese for supper. 

He enters her apartment, excitedly greeted by Keith at the door. He removes his coat, scarf and shoes and pets Keith before going into the kitchen to give him his kibble for supper. After washing his hands, he prepares a plate of food for himself and then also makes one for her in case she’s hungry when she gets back. He covers it in saran wrap and places it in the fridge, making sure to include a note with instructions. Next, he settles on the couch with Keith resting next to him with a book.

* * *

You are exhausted by the end of the meetings, team building exercises and corporate stuff. The hotel where the meetings were held was posh and you slept okay last night despite missing the constant contact of Keith. The start to the day was early, with breakfast meetings, the standard activities, and then a final dinner to close things off around 4:30. You then were a part of the clean-up team and you got caught in traffic on your way back north along I-95. You almost forget to, but you send a text to Wilson with your estimated ETA before you left Philly. As you see your exit for Princeton, you breathe a sigh of relief, you are almost home to your floofy son and your quiet apartment.

Despite eating the early dinner, your stomach grumbles a little. You didn’t have as much time as you expected to eat, and you were starting to feel worn out from the extroverted nature of the day’s events. After parking your car, you note the time, 9:11pm. You can eat some cereal or something to hold you over until tomorrow morning.

Hauling your overnight bag, work satchel and some additional paraphernalia, you slowly make your way up to your apartment. As you put your keys in the door you are surprised that Keith isn’t meowing excitedly at you. It is past his brushing and kitty treats time.

“Keeeiith! I’m home!” you say this as you open the door and immediately sense something is different. Keith emerges from the arm of the couch and leaps down trotting to you. You then notice a pair of well-polished men’s dress shoes, a large beige coat and a light plaid scarf already hanging on the coat rack. As Keith rubs your legs, you hang up your coat, put your bags down and head to the bathroom. The sound of slow and steady breaths catches your attention, Wilson is out cold on your couch with a blanket over his chest and legs, still wearing his work clothes. There is an oddly Keith shaped dip in the blanket on his chest, looks like someone was getting comfortable on Wilson again. . . his hair looks messier than normal as he drools on his arm. 

You go to the bathroom and quietly move to the kitchen. A note on the table catches your attention, written in a very clear but feminine looking script made up of print cursive. It starts only with the first letter of your first name followed by the following:

_I had some take out for supper. In case you are hungry, I made a plate for you in the fridge._ _Keith ate all of his kibble and I changed the water twice and scooped the litter box._

_Wake me up if I’ve fallen asleep on your couch again, it gave me a weird cramp last time._

_-J_

You then open the fridge to find a plate with saran wrap neatly wrapped around it and a post it note with your name on it as well. It is good that Wilson is out cold on your couch because you are blushing in embarrassment. 

After placing the plate in the microwave to reheat it, you brush Keith and he gets his required kitty dental treats followed by his final serving of kibble for the day.

The ding of the microwave is enough to rouse Wilson from his slumber and he sounds groggy, “Hey, I made a plate for you. . . . what time is it?”

“Thanks, I found it, it is 9:20pm. Man, you look rougher than usual? Long day?” You reply to him as you enter the living room and sit down on the chair with your second supper and a glass of water. 

Wilson rubs his face in an attempt to wipe the sleep out of his eyes. His hair looks wild. The volume is impressive, and it seems to be stuck in a lot of odd angles. His response is slow and hesitant, “Yeah. House kidnapped my blow dryer last night. I discovered a ransom note this morning and had to follow ‘mysterious’ instructions to learn more about its status.”

You chew your food before replying. “Wow, this sounds like a lot of effort for his part. What are you going to do?”

He ruffles his hair as he sits up on the couch, “I’ll just keep following the instructions. Interestingly, the next one is to attend the swing dance at the community center tomorrow at 7pm.” He makes an awkward facial expression and smiles before continuing, “Looks like you are formally going to meet House, as in the context of being the person I’m dating.”

You had been expecting this ever since the prank at Bamboo Garden, “What do you think pushed him to acting now?”

He blushes a little before replying, “The cat ears on Halloween. The code word was ‘cat ears’ and House was pushing to know why I was wearing them this year and not in previous years.”

You take a sip of water as he looks at you with a slight twinge of accusation. However, you know he damn well owned those cat ears, “Well, I guess he does have a point. Cat ears aren’t quite you.” You pause as Wilson nods in agreement with you, “But. You looked adorable in those ears and it seemed like you were owning them by the afternoon.”

Wilson looks at you in shock with a slight gasp.

“I saw the photo of you with that nurse, ah, Diaz and her kids.

His embarrassment is obvious as he looks away before he replies. “Okay, fine. I admit it. I looked damn good with those cat ears. However, nothing gets by House and this apparently was enough to get him interested in you. Well, the concept that you exist.”

“Tea?” You ask him this as you head back to the kitchen with your empty plate and glass.

“Sure, I’ll have the orange spice one.” He replies as he turns the TV on and you pour two cups of tea and settle back onto the couch next to him.

“So, were you planning to surprise me?” You ask him this as you keep your attention on the program on HGTV.

“Yeah. I had an ultimate plan, to give you a back rub with some lavender massage oil, and draw you a nice bath.” 

His thoughtful plan makes your heart flip and you lean over and give him a kiss on the cheek. Followed by a ruffle of his messy product filled hair.

“That was a sweet idea. What is your plan now?”

He turns to you and looks down at him with a slight sparkle in his chocolate brown eyes. “Well, if I hadn’t fallen asleep on your couch, I would have been more prepared. I think I can at least manage the back rub, but I’ll have to do that bath another time.”

You snuggle into his side. “Thanks. I think that sounds nice. Plus, you forgot I don’t have a bathtub.”

And with that the two of you begin some random banal comments about the house remodeling program as you drink your tea before retiring to the bedroom for the proposed Wilson back rub. Even before he starts, you have a feeling that it will be excellent, when it comes to pampering and self-care, he’s pretty much next level for a male professional.

With half open eyes, he lays down a towel on your bed to protect your bedding from the oil. He kindly requests that you undress and lay on your stomach over the towels and to rest your head on a pillow. He gives you a few minutes to get ready as he heads to the bathroom. Upon his return, he’s changed into his t-shirt and flannel pants and has a bowl with hot water in it, wash cloth and a bottle of massage oil. 

You smell the lavender as he opens the bottle and he rubs his hands together to warm them up before he applies the oil to his hands. A moment later you feel his warm hands as they begin to massage your neck and you sigh as all of the tension from the past 24 hours leaves your body. He hums to himself as you begin to melt under his firm, yet gentle touch. 

Speaking softly, barely above a whisper, he checks in with you. “Let me know if anything hurts or if I push too hard.” 

You mumble a yes as your body feels amazing as he works out the tension each knot and vertebrae at a time. The warmth of his touch soothes your stiff body and the scent of lavender relaxes you as you feel yourself floating off in bliss. As expected, his medical training shows with his instinctive reaction to know when to add more pressure or when to back off. You are barely awake by the time he reaches your lower back and he declares himself done.

He then wipes off the excess oil with the damp cloth with the water now warm. You slowly roll over to your side and thank him. He looks down to hide his pride in his performance and he gathers things up. It takes all of your energy to make your way to the bathroom to shower and then to brush your teeth and change into your pajamas. 

The last thing you remember is getting into bed as he mentions he’s going to shower to remove all of the hair products out. You leave the bed lamp on for him, but you are fast asleep before he comes to bed with Keith in tow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really think that House loves cartoonists like Charles Shultz; specifically due to his rather dark humor hidden beneath many of the 'Peanuts' comics and animated specials. It doesn't take a genius to read the subtext that Linus' faith in the Great Pumpkin is a simple dig at religion and faith.
> 
> My brother went as a Crayola crayon for Halloween one year. I wonder if the costume is still available from fabric stores?
> 
> I would 100% see Wilson being self-conscious about purchasing certain 'gendered' goods for himself, yet being proud when he does it for the woman he's seeing at the moment. 
> 
> Wilson would also totally test all of the free samples.
> 
> As far as the now infamous cat ears, I do see him being first reluctant, but as soon as the first cute woman who compliments him on them would have immediately shown him the power of them and he'd own those cat ears. By no means is Wilson a vain or narcissistic person, but he definitely cares about his appearance and you just know he loves getting compliments even if he were to deny them in House's presence. I mean who doesn't like a compliment from time to time?


	10. the plot thickens or House gets involved in Wilson's personal life

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wilson's personal quirks begin to surface and House makes himself fully known to Wilson's current romantic interest. How will Wilson handle things? How will she? How will House?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This has become the ultimate character analysis through fiction. I'm not sure when this will end, but I'm still not at a proper stopping point yet. 
> 
> This is starting to become something where, I would have liked to see small things go in season 6. Not like the whole re-write of a series, more to be softer and gentler. I'll blame the current pandemic for my preference to write a somewhat alternate season 6, with positivity.
> 
> A good portion of this was also written while listening to Beck's "Morning Phase" which I think added to that low-key vibe.

You are woken up by the energetic meows of Keith early in the morning. 6:50am no matter what day of the week it is. There is some movement next to you as Wilson rolls over to protect himself from cat attention taking a fair bit of the blankets with him. You sigh defeated and slide into your slippers as the cool air of the apartment wakes you up more than you want. Keith trots off ahead of you ready and waiting for his breakfast of kibble. 

After a trip to the bathroom and an encounter with a cold toilet seat, you head back to the warmth of your bed. Wilson is facing away from you as he looks intent on sleeping in more. Deciding that you want more sleep after the past two days of work craziness, you lay back down with your back facing him as you reclaim some of the blankets. 

You begin to settle in and feel yourself warming up and drifting off to that extra morning sleep. It feels deliciously dirty since sleeping in isn’t a luxury you get to indulge in frequently. Unclear how long you’ve been asleep for, you feel yourself beginning to wake up as a nose is nuzzling you neck below your hair line and warm breaths begin to tickle you slightly. The nuzzling is accompanied by a very soft hum and an increased awareness of a long left arm wrapping around your chest and a hand gently landing on your breast. 

You can’t imagine why the hand would have settled in that exact location. Nor are you surprised when Wilson pulls himself tighter to you as the nuzzling has shifted to light nibbles and kisses on the back of your neck. Looks like you are going to get some soft morning sex. Slowly, you push back into his warm body wrapped around you; sure enough, you feel the verification of this on his side and feeling indulgent you turn to face him as he moves on top of you. His hands linger on various parts of your body as the two of you kiss at a glacial pace. This morning's activities are going to be drawn out and based on how he’s holding back, exceptionally gentle, something that arouses you more. What is even hotter is that everything is wordless, with half open eyes. 

Wilson takes his absolute time; it is clear that he’s getting as much out of this as you are and in a rare instance the two of you are able to climax at the same time as he looks down at you through sleepy eyes with a dopey smile.

After the usual post-coital clean up, he snuggles up close to you. Finally breaking the silence, he whispers a timid “Good morning.” in your ear as then then plants a chaste kiss on it. You turn to look at him and feel yourself grinning like an idiot. 

“Good morning to you too.” And you reach out and boop his nose with your index finger as he looks a little confused his eyebrows quirked in a somewhat surprised arrangement. You snuggle into him and sigh. “I could use a few more mornings like this in the future.”

He languidly runs his left arm along your back. “I’ll make a note of it.” And the two of you continue to stay in bed surrounded by the physical and emotional warmth that envelops the both of you. 

The next thing you realize is that you had fallen asleep in his arms and now you are awake again in your bed alone. You roll over to look at your clock radio, 9:50 am. Holy crap you have definitely slept in and you wonder if Wilson got up to shower. When you are then greeted by the smell of coffee and something else . . . cooking in the kitchen. Is – Wilson making breakfast? You get up putting your slippers and a hoodie on as you head to the bathroom before entering the kitchen. 

At the stove, Wilson is flipping pancakes and the French Press is full of coffee, and he’s set out two place settings. He’s still wearing his pajamas with some additional wool socks on his feet and a crew neck sweatshirt over his t-shirt. Sensing you behind him, he turns to look at you with messy bed head and a sweet smile over his shoulder as he keeps his hands and spatula near the pan. 

He greets you with a playful statement of “Hey there sleepy head. I’m almost done with the pancakes do you mind pouring me a cup of coffee?” Your brain just melts at the scene. He’s so – so – so fucking domestic and adorable. 

“Sure. Making pancakes from scratch?” You peek around his large frame as he flips two pancakes that are almost done, and a few are already perfectly cooked on a plate next to your stove. It also gives you a chance to gently press yourself into him before you grab the French Press and pour two cups of coffee before sitting down.

A minute later he’s turned off your stove, moved the hot pan to another burner to cool and is bringing a heaping pile of pancakes to your small table. His pancakes are immaculate, almost perfectly round, equal thickness and a golden brown on both sides.

“Go ahead now, take as many as you want.” Wilson gestures to you with his hand in addition to making a little nod of his head at the pancakes before you. 

You take three pancakes off of the plate and add a moderate amount of maple syrup to them. Pancakes swimming in syrup isn’t that appetizing to you nor would you waste your maple syrup like that. It is only then that you notice that Wilson is watching you with anticipation and he absentmindedly adds a few pancakes to his plate while keeping his eyes on you.

Looking at the plate to avoid his anxious gaze, you cut a pancake into bite sized pieces before you take a taste of it. As you begin to chew you notice a – nutty flavor – in addition to the standard taste of a pancake. It tastes delicious. You look up to see his eyebrows and eyes wide open as he then hesitantly yet insistently speaks, “What do you think?” there is a brief pause before he continues “Of the pancakes?”

“These are amazing, you put some sort of nut in them? Don’t tell me you packed pancake ingredients in your overnight bag as well.” You are seriously blown away by these pancakes. Doctor James Wilson is truly a pancake master.

His eyes are sparkling as he looks down with a slight flush to his cheeks before he looks back at you. “They are macadamia nut pancakes. And no, I didn’t put them in my overnight bag. I just had them in a normal grocery bag, and I unloaded them in your pantry last night, though I admit, I used some of your flour, milk and eggs.”

You laugh at his direct and honest reply. “Well, I don’t object to you using my flour, milk or eggs. Though bringing your own macadamia nuts was next level. They are delicious and I appreciate that you made breakfast.” You look down feeling self-conscious since you can feel the heat of a blush on the tips of your ears. Trying to divert his attention from you, you cajole him a little, “Now you didn’t also happen to make Keith pancakes as well.”

Wilson chews his pancake as his eyes dart to the corner of the kitchen were Keith’s food bowl is before he looks back at you. “No, macadamia nuts are toxic to cats . . . I just . . . may have made a nut free pancake first to test the temperature of the pan. Which may have been Keith sized.”

His eyes look everywhere but at you as he makes this guilty smile to himself. 

“James! You can’t say no to anyone who is insistent can you?” you try really hard to hold your laughter by pointing your fork at him in an accusatory fashion. 

He sighs as he takes another two pancakes from the serving plate to begin to cut up on his own plate. 

“You’ve figured me out! I’m a total sucker for others, but really Keith really looked like he wanted a pancake. I mean he just sat on the table watching me as I mixed the batter. His argument was rather persuasive. Plus, I figured I needed to get on his good side.” Wilson has this playful look on his face as he takes a bite of his pancakes and he looks at you with a slight eyebrow wiggle.

“Keith’s good side? I think you are already on his good side.” You look at him slightly confused as to where this is going as you sip your coffee. 

“Well, I wanted to know if you’d like to go back to my place tonight after the dance? Of course, that would mean you’d be leaving Keith alone tonight and tomorrow morning.” Wilson is looking you with complete seriousness. He just buttered your cat up with a pancake, just to apologize for asking you to spend the night at his place. A feeling of butterflies stirs in your stomach, something you are pretty sure you haven’t felt your first real intense high school crush. You fiddle with your empty fork between your fingers as you think about your reply.

“Wow. I have to admit that I’m flattered and impressed. We will have to swing by my place after the dance to make sure to brush and feed Keith.” As soon as he hears your reply, Wilson is beaming. 

“Thanks, I appreciate it.” His smile then becomes more serious as he takes a large gulp of coffee, “There is also that fact that House still has my blow dryer and he told me to attend the dance.”

You nod along, unsure what makes a House prank, but you anticipate some aspect of it will be public and embarrassing.

“Well the pancakes were delicious and now I hear the call of my couch and some crappy Saturday morning TV. Care to join me?”

Wilson looks softly at you as he replies “Certainly, just let me get the plates soaking in the sink first.” As he preps the dishes for future cleaning ease, you make another pot of coffee and the two of you settle onto you couch for a useless morning that feels amazing after the past few days of work. The two of you settle in a comfortable silence and are eventually joined by Keith who manages to straddle the both of you.

* * *

The feeling of feline feet rouses Wilson from his deep sleep. He quickly realizes that Keith is awake and wanting, no insisting on breakfast. Trying to pretend that he was not the hand that fed Keith for the past 24 or so odd hours, he rolls away from him and works on increasing his blanket protection. She gets up reluctantly to feed Keith, as he hears the shuffle of her slippers and the flush of the toilet. The bed dips slightly as she returns to bed and tugs the blankets back towards her a smidge. He drifts off to sleep again.

A bit later Wilson wakes up again. This time he is a little more aware of his surroundings and he can hear the soft breathing of another person. He is almost giddy as he can’t believe he’s in bed with someone new and it goes straight to his crotch. This morning would be perfect for one of his areas of expert performance in bed. Gentle morning sex, or GSM as he likes to tell himself. One of the bad habits of being a doctor, making up extra abbreviations for non-medical things. With an almost cat like stealth (Keith would be impressed) he rolls over and moves so that he is flush with her back.

A gentle sweep of his right hand is able to make sure that the back of her bare neck is accessible, and he moves in to softly nuzzle it with his nose. At the same time, he reaches around her chest pulling her in for a hug while getting in a gentle and polite grope. The nuzzling doesn’t seem to get a response from her, perhaps she’s not awake just yet. Hell, he isn’t that awake either, that’s what makes this kind of sex so good, it happens on the edge of awareness. 

To wake her up, he begins to kiss and nibble her neck with a soft hum of approval as he makes his presence more known. This seems to do the trick as she pushes back into him, and he feels her make contact with his nether regions. Finally, after what seems like an eternity, she turns to face him, and he settles on top of her. Their kisses are at a snail’s pace and he relishes these feelings not quite awake or aware. 

With advanced bedroom skills, he slowly is able to remove articles of clothing and eventually pull out a condom he had shoved under his pillow last night (the dresser drawer was too far away!). He looks down at her through his half open eyes to see her also still on that edge of awareness. . . . based on how things have progressed so far, she also finds pleasure in this almost dream like sex. 

With his patience, he’s able to lead both of them to orgasm; at the same time. Surprised by these events he looks down at her with a smile that he can’t quite control and after he is able to clean up and cuddle. He loves cuddling so much. After telling her good morning with a gentle kiss, she managed to poke him in the nose; like a cat. That must be her way of showing affection and they drift off to sleep again. Just before he drops off again, he hears the sound of a motorcycle drive by. It even slows down as it nears the apartment building . . . not like House would be on his bike _**before**_ 10am on a _**Saturday**_. 

* * *

House is bundled up on his way home from his pain management yoga class. He’s feeling quite good this morning, something about this morning’s class really helped with his leg. However, he sweat a bit more than normal and he’s thankful he had decided to wear a scarf and thicker gloves. 

As usual, the streets are quiet, now only with the dog walkers out in the chilly morning. He rolls though the Historic District with a carelessness about him until he reaches the ‘street’. That’s right, the street where he found Wilson’s car parked early last Saturday morning. He down shifts the bike to slow down allowing him to survey the cars in the early morning light. 

New Jersey license plate number . . . yep, there is Wilson’s silver Volvo parked on the street surrounded by so many apartment buildings. He spent the night with her again and most of the windows of the apartments are dark as it is the weekend. 

A bit of movement catches his eyes in one of the windows above him while he creeps by Wilson’s car. In a second-floor apartment a fluffy black cat looks down at him with interest, before turning and jumping down from the ledge showing a fluffy grey and black tail. 

It couldn’t be . . . House thinks to himself and he begins to accelerate to get him back to his apartment and a nice warm bath followed by his preparations for the next phase of Wilson’s hair care woes.

* * *

Wilson wakes up feeling sexually satisfied, but still hungry, for some breakfast that is. A quick glance to the clock informs him that it is just after 9 am. He lays in bed for a little longer before the need to pee and eat something forces him out of bed. This time he is prepared for the cold morning floor. After fishing out and putting on warm wool socks he throws on one of his crewneck sweatshirts and heads to the bathroom. With basic biological functions taken care of, it is time to meet a biological need, food. 

In addition to the Vietnamese take out last night, he also brought some macadamia nuts to put in her pantry for his breakfast specialty – macadamia nut pancakes! After some quick searching of her kitchen, he’s able to wrestle up everything he needs as well as start some coffee. He scoffs at her milk on the door of the fridge and moves it onto a shelf deeper into the fridge. Keith joins him in the kitchen and after a quick berrrt, he’s sitting on the kitchen table watching Wilson with interest.

A natural in the kitchen with it comes to more basic recipes, Wilson whips up the pancake batter. Just before he adds the nuts, he looks at Keith who replies to him with a cute mew. Wilson stares into Keith’s eyes as he does the cat version of “I love you.” _The slow cat eye blink!_ His insides are stirred at Keith’s message of love and peace. He tells himself that he needs to make sure the pan is at the right temperature to cook the pancakes evenly; he could make a tester pancake for Keith.

“Would you like a pancake?” Wilson asks Keith this as he mews at him and leaps down onto the floor to rub his legs. It wouldn’t hurt to give him a small cat sized pancake. So, he greases the pan and turns on the element to bring the pan up to a stable yet not to hot temperature. Using a spoon, he scoops a small amount of batter into the pan to test cook it. Within a few minutes and a single flip, he’s made a perfect cat sized pancake. He then places it in Keith’s food bowl and pats Keith on the head as he inhales the pancake. 

With the pan at the perfect even temperature, he mixes the nuts into the rest of the batter and starts to hum to himself as he prepares breakfast. The sound of a toilet flushing alerts him that she is now awake, and he senses her at the edge of her tiny kitchen. He can’t resist flirting with her even after everything else. 

He tries to use his best relaxed and playful voice as he greets her “Hey there sleepy head. I’m almost done with the pancakes do you mind pouring me a cup of coffee?” He watches the flicker of an emotion briefly cross her face before she returns to her overly calm demeanor. Score, he thinks to himself, she’s melting on the inside. She replies rather simply asking if he is making the pancakes from scratch. She peeks at them while wrapping around his frame and he feels her touch him just slightly before pulling away as she grabs the French Press to pour the coffee for them.

He’s anxious for her to try his trusted recipe, and after turning off the stove brings a plate full of his pancakes and he is almost overly insistent that she try them. Even after all of these years, he’s nervous that she’ll tell him his pancakes are terrible or shit or something like that. Of course, she loves them and finds them delicious as she is curious how much effort he put into preparing them. 

But then she jokingly asks him if he made pancakes for Keith and he briefly glances at Keith’s dish before coming clean that he may have made a pancake for Keith, of course sans macadamia nuts since they are toxic to cats! He feels guilty as he gave into Keith’s instinct to beg for extra food and she tries to stifle her laughter that he is a sucker when it comes to others.

However, he can use this to his advantage to ask what he had been wondering since he got up, if he could invite her back over to his place tonight. So, he uses the guise of buttering Keith up to him so that he’ll be okay with her not spending the night at home.

His argument goes exceptionally well since he makes sure to come off as seriously as possible as a former cat dad; he taps into these emotions from his previous cat. Everything works out as he likes, she agrees to spend the night at his place as long as they can stop by to feed Keith after the dance.

This allows him to bring up the fact that they will have to follow through on the next step of House’s hair care product kidnapping. He’s concerned to leave his condo empty tonight, his House-sense is on high alert and he knows he’s going to do something. 

After finishing the pancakes, she retreats to the couch with an additional pot of coffee and he tides up the dishes before joining her on the couch to lounge around. Not surprisingly, Keith joins them, and they watch random TV while in a state of quiet bliss.

Just before noon, Wilson’s stomach rumbles loudly and he looks at it. He sighs realizing that they should start to move, and he’s got to give her a refresher before the dance tonight. 

“We should start to get a move on things. I’m hungry for some lunch. You want to make something here or go out?” He looks down at her and gives her a slight hug around her shoulder.

She ruffles her hair as she thinks. “I’ve got some pierogies and turkey kielbasa in the fridge as well as some sauerkraut. I’d think a heavier meal now would be better than later.”

He nods that it does sound good, but he can tell he’s a giant stinky mess with a slight sniff of his armpit. “Okay, I’m all for that, but I seriously need to shower.” She also gives herself a quick sniff in response to his self-conscious act.

“Whoa, you are right. How about this, I’ll shower first since you are Mr. I take a longer time in the bathroom, and once I’m out, you can shower while I get everything boiling or frying?” She smiles at him with the expectation he’ll agree. Which he does, though he needs to say something about her remarks about his self-care . . . she is remarkably similar to House in her sarcastic comments in that department.

“Agreed.” With that they are moving, and he takes the time to wash all of the dishes and pull out items for lunch while she showers quite quickly. When she emerges, she’s wearing a purple cashmere sweater over a pink t-shirt and some black skinny jeans and wet hair that is tied up and out of the way.

He’s able to perform his entire grooming routine save for his beloved hair dryer. He uses hers to the best of his abilities, trying to prevent fly a ways with a lower heat setting. As usual his casual outfit is almost too fancy for the weekend, he opted for a white button down with blue and orange stripes and a blue v-neck sweater with khakis. He loves his v-neck sweaters and they do look flattering on him. As he exits the bathroom, she’s is busy frying up some pierogies in butter with some onions as the sausage is boiling in a pot. In addition, there is a bowl of applesauce and sour cream out on the table with the plates. It appears she has gone all out for the condiments to apply to the pierogies which are just browned on a few points allowing for them to have an additional bit of crunch.

As he takes his first bite into a pierogy, he is greeted with the vinegary tang of sauerkraut inside the dough. It catches him by surprise, but it is delicious! It is only then that he catches her looking at him with interest.

“What do you think? I sadly didn’t make them, but I found a local shop that makes them. I love sauerkraut filled ones.” She seems to almost be trying a little bit too hard to sell them since he’s been around someone like House long enough to know that it is not a flavor the agrees with lots of people. 

To reassure her, he smiles before replying, “It isn’t a flavor that I’d normally try, but these are good.” Her eyes narrow, it looks like she’s trying to determine if he is being honest or not. He feels a bit awkward and continues to eat the rest of his lunch while she quickly finishes her lunch and takes the time to cut up some bell pepper for Keith who excitedly devours the pepper with tiny cat crunching noises.

With lunch finished another pot of coffee is made and he decides to take the initiative to give her the informal swing dance lesson in her living room with his ipod playlist. But before then, they have to make sure that they are properly caffeinated. As he pours the coffee, he asks her if she could grab the milk for him. 

“Sure.” She replies as she pulls open the door and looks confused, and it becomes clear that she’s looking for the milk on the door. He hesitantly shifts a bit and is just about to say something when she glances at the shelf. “Oh, it is over here. I guess you put it back on the shelf instead of in the door.” With that she pulls out the milk and then hands it off to him to pour into his coffee. He waits for her to walk away from the fridge before he puts the milk back on the shelf. The milk should always be on a shelf further in the fridge.

After finishing their coffees, he queues up his playlist on her stereo and he does his best to break down some of the basics from the lesson a few weeks ago. She’s definitely hesitant in her movements so he uses his gentle encouragement to get her to loosen up. They are in the comfort of her living room, it is okay. Of course, it doesn’t help to sneak in a quick kiss here or a hug there. By the end of his lesson, she’s looking more relaxed and she seems to be feeling a bit more comfortable with not worrying about how things look. Additionally, since they slept in this morning and had a lazy morning, it is already 4 by time things wrap up. 

Wilson begins to think about how much time it will take to get ready since he wants to go out to dinner and head over to the dance. She seems to be making a similar calculation but in regard to packing her own overnight bag for later tonight. “I need to start to pack things up for tomorrow and get ready for this evening. You don’t mind hanging out for a bit?” She looks at you with a feeling that she’s not sure what else to do with him and she needs some time to herself.

“Not a problem, though I need to get ready myself.” He says this as she is already in and out of the bathroom with personal care products and has pulled out a small duffel bag.

Wilson then enters the bathroom for an evening shave, moisturizing and an attempt at styling his hair a bit better. He keeps the dress shirt on but makes sure to add a fresh spritz of cologne, and more sweat proof deodorant. This time he has a solid blue tie, which works well with the shirt and he puts on the wool vest and dress pants. He sighs as he looks at his hair much curlier and messier than usual and puts some product in that is supposed to have a soft hold and keep some bounce. It isn’t what he wants but it is definitely better than yesterday. 

When he exits the bathroom, she’s all set. Her outfit is a bit different since she’s usually worn a skirt for most of their previous dates but today, she has on a pair of casual dress pants. They are black with a cream stripe down the sides. Her top is a loose dress shirt also cream with a black tie at the neck and it looks like it is silk. The only thing that looks casual are her socks, which have, he squints at them, rainbow unicorn cats? She also has most of her hair hidden with a scarf tied around her head and the knot meets at the base of her hairline with only the front of her hair visible. It is cute, very boyish but it works. He watches her eyes as they survey his outfit for the evening as she walks up to him. 

“Nice outfit as usual.” She smiles and she leans into her toes to kiss him on the lips. He’s caught a bit off guard but immediately settles in to hold her as he can’t help but to deepen the kiss. He finally pulls back to look at her as she looks both pleased and a bit shy. 

“I see you are going for a more boyish look today.” As he says this his hands drift down to her bum, “I like the pants.” And he just smirks while she gives him a laugh. With that she steps back and looks at him with her hands on her hips.

“Any idea for dinner? I admit I was so busy the past few days I didn’t give it much thought.” She seems a little hesitant since, she’s leaving things up to him.

He ruffles the back of his hair with his left hand, he hadn’t given it much thought either, but he definitely wants a drink with dinner. They could go to the White Lion pub, it is just before 5, if they got there early enough, they’d be okay. It would be a safe enough bet. He suggests it and she agrees that it wouldn’t be a bad idea.

* * *

After a lazy morning, you finally get dressed and make some lunch for you and Wilson and of course he takes quite a long time in the bathroom. Seriously, you have never dated a guy who was so detailed in his personal care routine. It is impressive, but you are really at a loss, since you have next to no routine. Sure, you wash your face, moisturize and put on sunscreen, but your entire routine is based on it being easy and minimal.

Though you have to give it to him, you’ve seen him in pajamas, but you’ve never really seen him in casual clothing. He pops into the kitchen to watch you fry up the pierogies and he’s wearing a dress shirt, sweater and khakis. A part of you wants to see a messy Wilson, a just James Wilson, not the proper looking doctor.

Only have the two of you have settled in do you think about the fact that some of the pierogies are sauerkraut filled and you didn’t mention it. You look at Wilson as he takes a bite into one; based on the perplexed facial expression, he just had one. You decide to ask him about it, and it comes up as an awkward sentence. 

“What do you think? I sadly didn’t make them, but I found a local shop that makes them. I love sauerkraut filled ones.” 

Of course, he smiles at you softly and politely responds that he’d normally not have this flavor but it is good. You narrow your eyes as you look at him as though it will tell you if he’s telling the truth or if he’s being polite by default.

You quickly finish your lunch and cut up some bell pepper for Keith. As soon as the knife hits the cutting board, Keith comes trotting into the kitchen tail up and mewing. He loves bell pepper so much and quickly eats it with zest.

Wilson suggests doing some swing dancing practice but to have some coffee first. He makes another pot and when he asks you to grab the milk for him, you open your refrigerator. Perplexed you see a milk sized empty space in the door, you swore you had a half gallon that was still pretty full. 

But then you recall that Wilson made the pancakes so, he may have put the milk back in the wrong place and you find it on the shelf instead in the middle. You comment that he must have put it on the wrong place and hand it over to him as you take your black coffee. 

After the coffee, you have no excuse to but to give it a go for the dance lesson from Wilson. For some reason you are feeling more uncomfortable this time in the privacy of your own living room. With Wilson’s gentle touch, he gets you to relax and he seems to use it as a chance to sneak in a kiss every now and then. You are both flattered and feel a bit silly about it, but it helps you to relax. By time he feels that you are comfortable it is almost 4. Feeling a bit overwhelmed from all of the Wilson time, you tell him you’d like to spend some time packing for tonight/tomorrow and get dressed. Not really paying much heed to his reply, you start to dig out a few items from the bathroom and then pack things up into an old duffel bag.

Wilson retreats into the bathroom where he gets ready.

You finally check the temperature on your phone, it is 43 and the low tonight is 35. You didn’t even notice how cool it was since you’ve just spent the day at home with Wilson and Keith. Even though it is fairly cool, you remember how warm and sweaty you were at the dance and Wilson will be wearing the wool three-piece suit again which is definitely warm as well. Plus, Wilson is just really warm to begin with. 

Really, you just need something that is warm enough to go from a car to a building. You pull out a pair of black dress pants that are comfortable with a cream stripe down the side. Coordination isn’t your strong suit like Wilson, but the cream stripe isn’t a part of your normal wardrobe, so you bought a cream silk dress shirt with a black-tie collar at the same time that matches. To prevent full outfit harmony, you change into a pair of socks with rainbow unicorn cats flying across a dark blue sky. Lastly, you tie your hair back with a small scarf, knotting it under your hair at the hairline on the back of your neck. 

You wait in the living room while Wilson finishes up in the bathroom. He comes out wearing the vest, and he kept the same shirt on from earlier, but added a solid blue tie. It looks good and his hair seems fine, though he seems a bit hesitant. You can feel him as he looks at your outfit, he seems to squint at your socks, and you walk up to him.

Looking at him, you go with a simple, “You look nice.” Oh yes, you are the most eloquent of speakers and you stand on your toes to give him a kiss. He seems a bit surprised but quickly takes control of the kiss. His arms wrap around you as he goes for a full on tongue action. When he finally releases you, it is a mix of pleasure and wanting to hide just a bit. For such a polite man in his social interactions, he’s straightforward when it comes to the physical aspect of a relationship. 

He comments on your boyish outfit and also compliments your pants with a sight squeeze to your bum. Oh ho, if you don’t escape the two of you won’t be making it very far so you take a few steps back and put your hands on your hips and ask him what your dinner plans are. He suggests the White Lion, which seems like a decent idea. You could have a drink early enough to relax and it is early enough it shouldn’t be too crowded. 

With that decided, the two of you put on your winter coats, you grab a small purse while he double checks that he’s got his keys, wallet, phone and pager. It is dusky as the sun sets and cool as you walk to his car parked out in front of your building. You see Keith in the windows above watching traffic that moves along your street lightly. Wilson’s heated seats are amazing and the two of you chat about what to have for supper that is light enough to not be too heavy for dancing.

When you arrive at the pub, it is half full. The shift from Halloween to the deeper and darker part of fall seeps into the atmosphere. The pub has several fireplaces lit and there is a heavier hush around. The two of you are seated in a corner and both order salads with a plate of fries to split. They have a seasonal cider on tap which both of you decide to try. It is tangy and dry and both of you finally feel completely awake from the hazy and lazy day. 

It is then that you notice this is the early stage of a relationship; where it has that not quite real quality. This usually wears off over time, but right now you are enjoying the high associated with this feeling. 

When the server drops off the check, you smile and thank him before he even has a chance to pull out his wallet. He blushes just slightly before replying that it isn’t a problem. You excuse yourself to the bathroom and return to the table as he’s putting his coat on and the two of you leave the pub now becoming busier with a mix of professionals, families and students from the university. 

Wilson is oddly silent on his way to the community center. As he puts the car in park he finally speaks, “I have no idea what House’s plan is. All I know is that it will likely be unusual.” He’s giving off a nervous energy as he turns off the car. Finally, he turns to you and looks serious, “So no matter what happens, don’t take it too seriously. House is an ass.”

You nod before replying. “Got it. I think we will be fine.”

And with that Wilson summons up his courage and the two of you exit his car and head into the community center. Wilson presents the two entry tickets to the staff at the front table. One of the dance instructors from your lessons is taking tickets, the tall lanky guy and he recognizes both of you. 

“Oh good evening! Nice to see you back here again.” He smiles as Wilson replies that it is a pleasure. The man then cocks his head before continuing. “This may seem a bit odd, but are you a Doctor James Wilson?” Wilson then looks a bit surprised and then seems to realize what is going on.

“Yes, I am.” His eyes narrow just slightly. The man hands over an envelope to him, “I was requested to give this to you. Have a good evening.” Wilson accepts that envelope and thanks him as you also tell him to have a nice evening.

Both of you walk away and look at the envelope. Wilson excitedly opens the envelope and unfolds a handwritten note. The two of you look at it as he reads it aloud.

_Hello Jimmy and his likely female date who owns a grey cat and is petite,_

_Now, don’t worry, your precious blow dryer will be returned by tomorrow at the latest (It depends what time I wake up tomorrow). It took me awhile to put things together, but I became curious about the swing dance flyer that Nurse Singh handed out to us a few weeks ago. I obviously can’t dance, but sometimes you just have to be “in the mood” for some good times._

_Once I’ve confirmed the identity of your putative female companion as well as why you would be at a swing dance, I’ll make sure that my people get your item back to your people. This is the last time you hide your secrets from me!_

Both of you look at each other and then look around. People are milling around and chatting as the band sets up for the 7pm start time. Chase and Singh notice the two of you in the corner with the note which Wilson quickly folds up and shoves in his pocket. 

Singh seems happy that both of you are there and Chase greets you with a friendly smile and he and Wilson nod as they greet each other. And with that the band begins to play and Wilson offers his hand to you as he fusses with his hair. “Would you like to dance?” he does a bit of a forward bow and you accept it, “Certainly, fine sir.” He chuckles as he leads you onto the dance floor and you start out with some basics as he smiles yet keeps an eye out at first for House.

After a song or two, nothing has happened, so he gives up on worrying and begins to show more skill as you do your best to keep up. Thankfully, you are less nervous now surrounded and lost in the crowd and you relax. As the first set wraps up, the band leader announces that the last song will be an unusual solo piano performance before the first break. 

It is then that you hear the beginning of the Glenn Miller’s most famous song “In the Mood” as a piano solo. Wilson then comes to an immediate stop and turns to look at the stage. House is playing the piano and he’s not just good, he’s amazing. His eyes are closed as he lets the emotion carry him through the song. When it comes to an end, the dancers applaud, and you are swept away add to the applause. You catch Wilson’s facial expression, there is a soft smile with a sadness that lingers under his eyes as he claps with everyone else.

Chase quickly finds you as you take a break to have some water and other non-alcoholic drinks. “Did you guys see that?” Chase is super excited, “I knew House played piano, but in my six years at PPTH, I’ve never heard him, except for one other time when he played with a patient! This is incredible.”

Wilson is nodding along silently. He’s oddly quiet as though he’s still taking it all in. As your group continues to chat, Singh joins you and also remarks that she had no idea that House was also musically talented. She’d only heard rumors about him playing guitar a few years ago to piss people off, but this was completely different.

It is then that your little circle is interrupted by House himself. He’s leaning into his cane as he makes his way into the group and next to Wilson as he puts his left hand on his back. 

“Wilson! I had no idea you knew how to swing dance! How did you hide this from me? I’ve searched your place numerous times over the years and seen no evidence of this!” House’s blue eyes sparkle in the dimmed lights of the multipurpose gymnasium. Wilson puts his hands on his hips as he rolls his eyes looking at his best friend.

“Sometimes, a man needs some secrets. Though, did you seriously search all of the places that I’ve lived over the years?” Wilson asks this even though he seems to already know that the answer is yes.

House looks up at the ceiling as he thinks, “I actually never managed to search all of your place with Bonnie, but I did score a nice dessert plate.” He tilts his head to look at Wilson before he turns to you.

Wilson groans as he brings his left hand to his face. “That’s where the plate went . . . I should have known it would have been you.” He then notices how House’s attention has shifted to you.

He smiles as he looks at you, “So, you are still dating Wilson even after I told you about the ex-wives. Interesting. What’s it like dating Wilson? Has he moved in with you yet?” House has this mischievous grin that you can’t quite read.

You aren’t quite sure how to reply to him, but it is best to not give him too much. “It is interesting dating James. He’s very different than most men I’ve encountered.” You watch how House’s eyes narrow a bit more as he leans in just a touch and you feel Wilson and Chase holding a collective breath. Not wanting to pay that much attention to his gaze, you turn the tables on him, “That was a breathtaking performance on the piano. I take it you have playing for a long time. Was this your first public performance in some time?”

Wilson makes an audible gasp as his eyes dart back and forth between you and House as he instinctively pulls you a little closer to him. House stares back at you deadpan for a moment. He slightly wets his lips before he speaks, with an exaggerated shrug of his shoulders.

“Well, I have been playing since a teen. I guess it would depend what you consider public” he hesitates as he looks at Wilson with a softness in his eyes, that you haven’t seen from him before in your brief encounters with him. “However, I am no stranger to public performance.” He ends his statement with a quick tap of his cane. 

Chase is excited to follow up, “That really was incredible! I really mean it.” He looks at House with awe and respect and Singh also comments. “I’m glad you were able to join us Doctor House.” She smiles sweetly at him as House almost seems to appreciate the compliments like a normal person. 

House then looks at the group as he comments to both Chase and Wilson, “I still can’t believe that both of you have been doing swing dancing and I had no idea. Wilson, I can tell that those shoes are ones you’ve had for a long time. Where the hell have you been hiding them?” House seems truly intrigued that he didn’t know about this.

Wilson ruffles his hair with his hand as he shrugs. “I honestly, don’t know what to say House. They’ve just been in a small box that has moved with me from place to place. I found them in the spare bedroom at the base of the closet, I just dumped them down there when I moved into the condo.” His answer seems too obvious to House, but House just seems more intrigued. 

“I can’t believe they were in the same room as me when I was living with you.” he seems to ponder something as he looks at a corner of the room and the band members begin to reassemble. “Well, I’ve got to go, I’m to accompany the band on piano and guitar in a bit.” And with that House turns and makes larger than life steps in direction of the stage with a bit of swagger to his uneven gait.

Wilson excuses himself to the bathroom while you chat with Chase and Singh for a bit. By time he returns, the two of you return to the dance and Wilson seems much more relaxed. He sneaks a kiss on the top of your head. “You handled House well back there. He usually goes on the offensive, but you got him to talk a little about himself.” 

You lean into him while dancing and look up at him and his soft brown eyes. “Well, it takes one to know one, so to speak. You care about him a lot; I can see that he’s your best friend.”

Wilson’s eyes dart away from you while his eyes look a little bit more serious than usual. He then pulls you in a little closer as the band plays a slower song, “Yeah.” He looks at you with a sober expression. “He’s my best friend.”

The rest of the evening is relaxed, Wilson seems to be taking things in as he occasionally glances at House playing with the band and smiling with that quiet sadness. You feel like you are watching something important to Wilson and you can’t quite put your finger on it. During the next break you are beginning to feel tired and House wanders over to join you again. 

“So, if Wilson hasn’t moved into your place yet, is he trying to move into your place? I mean with you lending him a key and all.” House just declares this to the both of you as Wilson sighs and puts his left hand over his face. 

“Goddammit House. I had to feed her cat.” Wilson rolls his eyes as his hands land on his hips and he begins to take a more assertive pose. You find yourself also rolling your eyes before you add to the explanation, “I had to be in Philly for work at the last minute. He was kind enough to feed Keith in a pinch.”

House then makes a shocked face, “Keith, your cat’s name is Keith. What sort of name is that? Naming your cat a human name.”

As though it was almost pre-planned, both Wilson and Chase make a scoffing noise. Chase speaks first, “Uuumm, says the man who named a rat that he trapped from his ex-girlfriend’s attic.” Chase seems to be rubbing into House with this comment. Wilson then smirks while rubbing his hands together, “Yes, that’s right what was that rat's name? Steeeeeeveeeee? Steve McQueen.”

You laugh and then offer your right hand to House as a truce. “Hello pot, nice to meet you.”

House hesitates a moment before he tentatively offers you his hand as well. “Nice to meet you - kettle.” His hand is rough yet strong and not at all soft nor gentle like Wilson’s. His hand feels more worn out and tired as though he’s been away from people for too long.

“Fine, I may have also named a rat for a human. I’m just trying to figure out how fast Wilson is moving in this relationship. I mean, it isn’t like he’s trying to rearrange your stuff or anything like that, say moving the milk in the fridge.” House looks at Wilson with suspicion and he immediately sees Wilson jolt back a touch.

You then turn to Wilson in surprise, “You moved the milk on purpose! Why? There is a perfectly milk sized space in the door.”

Wilson’s eyes dart back and forth, and you are certain he looks like he wants to mutter something nasty at House. His hand immediately moves to the back of his neck to mess with his hair, “It isn’t that, it, it is just wrong okay. The milk should be inside the fridge on a shelf where it is cooler.” His voice is tinged with an undertone of annoyance and a feeling that this is a _**fact**_.

You look at him and notice that House is watching the two of you with great interest out of the corner of your eye, but you reply to Wilson, “You put the milk in the middle because it is cooler there. Really? I’ve kept my milk in the door for 15 years and had no ill effects. It bothers you that much?”

Wilson looks at his shoes sheepishly . . . “Yeah. I guess so.” And he looks up at you from under his thick eyelashes with his puppy dog eyes. Goddammit, you can’t stay mad at that face. You move in to give him a gentle hug as he sighs. 

It is then that House makes a bit of an annoyed sigh that he catches both of your attention. And it is immediately clear. At the same time both of you yell “House!” and then Wilson continues, “You did this on purpose since you’ve lived with me long enough to know all my quirks. What the fuck?”

House then shrugs and makes an over exaggerated gesture of “oops!” as his hand comes to his mouth and he tries to keep a straight face. Wilson’s face then relaxes but he still looks peeved. 

House then begins to fidget, “Well, I’ve got to get back to the stage. One more set.” He returns to a neutral expression as he looks at Wilson, “You up for a drink after this?”

Wilson ruffles his hair, “No, we’ve got to swing by her place to feed Keith first. We’ll likely peel off soon.” House looks at both of you and nods. 

“Okay, well, have a good evening then.” He then turns and waves his left hand as he goes back to perform.

“Night House.” Wilson keeps it simple and he returns his attention to you. “I’m so sorry about that. House can really be an ass sometimes.” 

You look up him and smile. “It is alright. Though, it is funny with you and the milk placement. He’s very good at seeing what makes people tick. It is a pity he can’t see it in himself.” 

Wilson smiles back at you, “Yeah, you’ve got a decent understanding of House. I really can’t shake the feeling you have a lot in similar with him.” He cocks his head as he guides you on to the dance floor to watch the 20 minutes of solos from various couples.

You lean into his side for a side hug. “Well, I guess you’ll have to find out. Though, you must also have a lot in common with him to be his best friend.” You almost add in the remark that you sense that Wilson has seen House through a lot of dark and shitty times, but hold off. You don’t want to say anything until you can identify that feeling that is shared between the two of them.

This time during the solos, Chase and Singh perform; she leads him in a similar fashion to when she danced with Wilson, but the feel is completely different. Chase has a natural sense of flow and elasticity to himself and you have to admit, it is pretty hot. However, you also sense that Chase has a lost feeling about himself when it comes to relationships. You wonder why he isn’t dating Singh; she’s clearly comfortable with him?

As the evening progresses, you and Wilson slow down and you can start to feel it in your body. Wilson notices your stiffness, he leans in and whispers, “Don’t worry, I’ve got something in mind tonight for relaxation.” You hum in reply as the evening comes to a close. Instead of the chaotic energy from the last time you were at the dance, you feel calm and reassured that whatever he has in store will be excellent.

The two of you return to your place and you make sure to brush and feed Keith his last bit of kibble for the day. You then scoop in extra kibble for breakfast as you tell him not to eat it all tonight! Wilson gathers up his overnight bag while you make sure everything is good to go and you toss your duffel bag over your shoulder and head to Wilson’s car on the street. 

* * *

House is invited out for drinks with the band after they’ve cleaned. A small voice in the back of his head tells him to take them up on their offer, but he’s both tired and distracted by Wilson and his – his – girlfriend. 

A tall woman, who played base, tells him that it is alright, but he’s welcome to join them in two weeks. She’s got jet black hair with a few silver streaks and grey eyes. Yeah, he’ll definitely have to take them up on their offer. 

Wilson all but admitted that he was taking her back to his condo tonight. If he was going to prank Wilson, he needed to get there before they were done feeding and fussing over her cat. So, with as much speed as he could muster, he hops on his bike and heads over to Wilson’s condo.

He parks the bike on a side street and enters the condo, still dark and no one home. He then slips into the guest bathroom and settles into the sub-optimal shower making sure the curtain is drawn. 

His heart skips a beat when about 15 minutes later he hears the sound of the door open and the solid steps of Wilson upon the tile in the foyer along with her also quite certain footsteps. Wilson says something about her putting stuff down in the bedroom and that he’d be ready in a few minutes and he then hears the sound of the water running in Wilson’s room. It is a bit muffled, but he's likely doing a quick shower to wash off his sweaty self. Wilson always likes to look a fresh as possible for the ladies.

Footsteps quickly approach the bathroom that he is hiding in and the light flicks on. It is her and she tosses what sounds like a few items on the counter and then urinates. Thankfully, he listens to her flush, and then wash her hands thoroughly with soap and water before she exits turning the light off leaving only the faint glow of the nightlight. He always made fun of Wilson and his need for a nightlight in every bathroom, but there were times when he was back from Mayfield where it was a godsend in the middle of the night as he struggled with his return to a Vicodin free life.

The sound of running water stops. Wilson must be done cleaning himself, though his hair dryer is still absent. Wilson is all about the grooming, and he wonders what he does before he makes a move on a woman. . . things then become fairly calm he can hear faint music coming from Wilson’s bedroom. He’s not actually setting the mood, is he? But then again, he heard from sources that Wilson is an expert of seduction. It is now or never!

With that, House creeps out of the shower and into the dark hallway. He makes his way silently into Wilson’s bedroom. The lamps on his nightstands are on, but the overhead lamp is off. There are a few items scattered about. He smells the scent of lavender wafting into the bedroom and the bathroom door is closed and the light is on. The sound of the music is muffled by the door. 

The hairs on his arms begin to stand as he’s not sure what he’ll encounter on the other side of the door. . . there is only one way to find out. His left hand reaches out and slowly turns the handle as slowly as possible. 

He then takes a deep breath as he yells at the top of his lungs, “How’s it going Wilson?!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And it ends with a cliffhanger! 
> 
> What will House see in the bathroom? How will Wilson respond? What will you do?


	11. welcome to spa wilson - enjoy your visit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wilson has dialed up his pampering to eleven and House is about to prank Wilson and his date with surprising results. What sort of chaos will House create? Wilson really knows how to relax, but even he gets too excited by things. So enter the personal day spa - er night spa hosted by the charming Doctor James Wilson.
> 
> Additionally, life continues on with all of the office politics of PPTH and our reader settles into her role. Keith continues to be adorable and the relationship might be moving to something more serious.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've kept this fic fairly general and have been writing explicit content in the side series. Just a note, there is some nudity and allusion to more adult themes in this chapter, but I've kept it pretty basic and it fits in more for the story and it is not some crass content just because. I tried to keep the descriptions brief and as respectful as possible. So, besides some aggressive kissing, there is no graphic description of any actions. That's currently for your own imagination.
> 
> I'm about 50/50 in regard to writing a full adult and explicit side chapter for the sex scene. If I do, I'll make note of it here for reader information. I like the idea, but I'm also more interested in the basic story for this fic.

Wilson is excited as he unlocks the door to his condo; she’s spending the night at his place! He’s already prepared for this; well he’s always prepared but he knows how he’s going to pamper her tonight.

They remove their coats in the foyer and she drops off her overnight bag in his bedroom before she heads to the kitchen to get a glass of water. He tells her that he has a surprise and that he needs about 10 minutes to prepare for it.

She looks at him intrigued and she states how she’ll put her toiletries in the other bathroom and then hang out in his bedroom. 

He takes off the suit jacket and hangs it up to air out and he removes his watch placing it on his nightstand. To set the mood, he turns on the lamps on his nightstands and turns off the ceiling light making everything seem dusky. He then enters his bathroom and turns on the tap to fill the bathtub. Rolling up his sleeves, he’s able to place his forearm into the water to test the temperature; he wants it warm enough so that muscles can relax but not scalding hot. In the cabinet he has a variety of scented bath soaps, bath salts and bath bombs. 

Looking for something relaxing and not too overwhelming, he adds some lavender and lemongrass bath salts. It smells lovely and he feels himself relaxing as the scent spreads throughout the bathroom via the steam. From a high shelf he pulls down a few lavender scented soy candles and places them on stable surfaces; the windowsill, on the sink and on a small shelf. As the water level increases, he dips his arm in to feel it again, testing the temperature. It is just about perfect and he notices the fog forming on the mirror and the window glass. 

Lastly, he pulls his ipod out of his pocket and sets it up in a small stereo system. He went ahead and bought the other albums by Purity Ring and he transferred all of them to the ipod to play softly in the background. And with that, he’s set up his perfect post-swing dancing bath.

He opens the bathroom door to find her taking her pajamas out of her bag and arranging other items on a dresser top for tomorrow.

With a wide sweeping motion of his left hand he gestures to the bathroom. “Please follow me into my bathroom.” And he winks as she nods and follows him with a perplexed facial expression. 

She enters the bathroom, now full fragrant with the scent of lavender and just a touch of the lemongrass. She looks around and her first comment is on the music. “Purity Ring. This isn’t the album I gave you though.” And she looks at him realizing that he found more of their music, and she’s smiling. 

“After all of that swing dancing and your busy week, I thought that there is nothing better than a nice bath.” He smiles sweetly towards her as he steps back and lets her see the bath ready and waiting.

“Lavender and lemongrass bath salts with a few lavender candles as well. All for relaxation.” He explains this, but she’s not quite focused as she seems speechless. She approaches the bathtub and cautiously sticks her hand into the water before she turns to him. 

“This. This is unexpected.” She looks at the floor and her silly cat socks before her eyes gaze back at his soft and watery. “Thank you.”

Wilson ruffles his hair, as for some reason she is making him feel more self-aware than usual. “Please, go ahead and get in.” he doesn’t even give her a chance to protest the fact that he’s there. He then walks up to her and wraps his hands around her waist, to pull her shirt out of her pants and his fingers touch her skin beneath. “I can help you undress as well.” 

He looks down at her face which is flushed, and she nods. With her permission, he unties the bow on her shirt and unbuttons the shirt. She turns so that he can take it off of her torso and now her back faces him. Making sure that she’s comfortable, he gives her bare shoulders a quick squeeze and continues to gently remove her bra, pants and then underwear. Her face is still flushed, and she can’t quite meet his gaze as she fusses with her hair. This is something totally new for her and it is definitely pushing her comfort zone. 

To reassure her, he gives her a chaste kiss on the lips and then leads her to place her foot on his thigh to remove her left sock and then having her switch legs to remove the right sock.

Completely bare before him, he begins to feel himself blush, but he keeps his composure. Offering his left hand to her, she takes it as he leads her into the bathtub. As she sinks into the water, he watches how her entire body relaxes as the water envelops her. Her eyes flutter shut and the sound of her sigh, adds to his own feeling of contentment. 

He then brings a small basket next to the bathroom and a small stool to sit on next to the tub. The basket is full of brushes, body scrub gloves, a thick comb as well as other personal care items for bath pampering. 

“If you don’t mind, I can scrub your back, wash your hair or something like that.” He says this as he feels so accomplished as he looks at her completely relaxed and vulnerable in the water.

He’s sitting on the stool at the edge of the tub, his arms resting on the rim. She opens her eyes and smiles. “This is amazing. It also smells so good!” and then her smile becomes more of a smirk. . . and her eyes narrow a little. 

She sits up and moves so that she’s facing him, most of her body still under the water. They are then almost as eye level, she’s just a touch below him.

“A back scrub does sound good. . . . but I’m thinking of something else.” She has a playful look in her eyes. 

Wilson tilts his head to the right as he tries to figure out what it means, when all of a sudden, she reaches out towards him with her hands and captures him in a passionate kiss. Her warm wet fingers dive into his hair. Her left-hand settles on his neck while the right one begins to tangle itself into his hair. 

On instinct, he reaches out to her. His left hand grasps her hair while he dips his right hand into the water to settle on her back. She gasps as his hand touches her under the water and he uses that to deepen the kiss. All of a sudden, giving her a back scrub seems silly and he wants to get into the tub with her.

He feels his heartbeat pounding as the sound of blood rushing is drowning out the music in his ears. _This is going to be so fucking hot_ , he thinks.

However, he’s startled by a loud shout of “How’s it going Wilson!?!?” from behind him. He jumps back as she startles; with his hand behind her, he finds himself falling face first into the bathtub, still fully clothed. As his face hits the water following his entire right arm up to the shoulder, he yelps loudly, and he hears an “Ack!” from her as she slips back as well.

After getting a mouthful of lavender and lemongrass bathwater, he quickly extracts himself from the tub to turn to find House standing in his bathroom frozen in place. He runs his left hand through his wet hair to slick it back and out of the way and he looks at House with a look of complete shock. Just the sight of House in his bathroom is enough to make his blood boil and he snaps.

“ ** _House!_** What the hell are you doing in my bathroom?” he doesn’t even notice how wet he is as he figures his anger will be hot enough to dry off his clothing at this moment.

House bows his head and fidgets as he looks from side to side, “Well, I guess I should be going. I was hoping to get a nice soak in your bathtub, but it seems to be occupied at the moment.” 

“House, you **_do not_** get off that easily!” Wilson is surprised how his statement is more of a growl than a politically toned statement of fact. 

As he stands up to physically remove House from his bathroom, he is surprised by a declaration from her. “Oh, you want a bath? **_That_** can easily be arranged.” Her voice is calm and icy. 

House’s gaze shifts to her as his facial expression goes from the awkward “I just saw Wilson getting it on” to “oh fuck” as he catches movement out of the corner of his eye. And then he hears the sloshing sound of water as it flies out of the tub across the bathroom to hit House squarely in the face and chest. 

Wilson feels like the next few moments are in slow motion. He turns to see her standing in his bathtub fearless and moving to toss another scoop of bathwater at House. He then turns back to see House moving to turn away and escape before she hits him with more water. 

“Get him! He can’t outrun us!” she’s determined to get back at House as he watches her step out of the tub and Wilson feels a grin spreading across his face. 

He moves before he even realizes it, and in a few quick steps he’s grabbed onto House as he begins to panic in honesty. “Wilson! Let me go, you sappy romantic! However, House’s struggle is for naught as Wilson has the advantage of two functional legs to begin to pull him back to the tub. 

He’s surprised at the giggles that begin to escape from his mouth and in the struggle, she’s grabbed his cane and he has no way to fight back. House is beginning to realize that he may have not thought things through as well as he should have.

“Oh no no no! You know how much I hate scented baths! Willllsssooooonnn!” House is pleading as he almost has him towards the very full tub. 

“Dunk him!” she shouts as House tries one last time to avoid a lavender overdose of his own.

Wilson pauses and holds House in place as they look at her, arms crossed in front of her chest and feet planted wide apart deathly serious. Her facial expression causes both Wilson and House to still, she’s _pissed_.

Wilson can feel her anger as it cuts through House’s uncharacteristic silence. He’s impressed, she’s managed to push back against House, and then he feels himself turned on by things and wants to get back to where they were interrupted by House’s attention addiction. Powerful women are hot. Why didn’t Wilson realize this when he was younger . . . but his attraction to Cuddy a few years ago, his relationship with Amber. . . he likes strong women. He composes himself to take control of House’s failed prank.

“Greg, I think you need to leave now.” His voice is clear and House nods as he understands the emotion and intent hidden in the simple statement.

“Okay. I’ll go.” House says this as he goes limp in Wilson’s grip, letting Wilson know that he’s not going to escalate things. He releases House and he hobbles over to pick up his cane that she had tossed off to the side.

House then makes puppy dog eyes at them. . . “I rode over on my bike. I’m now soaking wet on my shirt and it is in the 30s. You don’t want to send a cripple home in wet clothing.”

She picks up a towel and tosses it at his face. “Cry me a river. Towel off your wet face and go change into the spare shirt you have here. I suspect you have quite a few items in the condo.”

House’s eyes dart about as he grins and wipes the towel over his face before he replies. Wilson knows he’s doing this so that they can’t see his full reaction.

“Fine, I’ll get myself freshened up.” He starts to head out the door before he pauses and looks back. “How’d you know I have a shirt here? Go through all of Wilson’s closets?” House tries to leer at her, but she’s not having any of it.

“Nope, I’m not neurotic as you. It was the retro thermos.” And with that she moves back into the bathtub. Wilson finds himself standing in the middle of his bathroom, with her in the tub while House hobbles off to the spare room to change shirts before he heads out.

With House now out of earshot she looks at him, “I’d like to pick up where we left off. Once he’s out the door.” Her expression has shifted back to more relaxed. It goes straight to his crotch and he nods.

“Yeah, I’m going to make sure that House exits the door and I’m locking the deadbolt.”

With that he scurries out of the bathroom and escorts House out of the condo as quickly as possible. House is oddly quiet. His only remark is simple. “She actually splashed me.” as his blue eyes darted about looking into Wilson’s face for some sort of answer.

“Night House.” Wilson says this as he pushes a now dry House out the door and locks it behind him.

* * *

Wilson seems excited as he opens his condo door. After putting a few of your items down in his bedroom, you use the other bathroom and drop off a few toiletries on the countertop. 

He seemed quite insistent that he has to prepare something, so you get a drink of water in the kitchen before you enter his bedroom. The table lamps are on, and it gives a soft evening feel. The bathroom door is closed, and you hear the sound of water running as it begins to smell more aromatic. 

You decide to unpack some of your items out of your duffel bag; pajamas are tossed on the bed. The sound of music then begins playing in the bathroom and you wonder just **_what_** he is doing in there?

The door finally opens, and Wilson emerges as you lay out clothing for tomorrow. He’s still wearing the vest, but his sleeves are rolled up past his elbows and he makes a dramatic gesture with his left hand. He smiles as he speaks, “Please follow me into my bathroom.” His statement is followed by a playful wink. You aren’t sure what this means, and you cautiously proceed to enter the bathroom.

The floral scent is almost magical as lavender with a side of citrus tickles your nose. You look around the room, there are candles burning throughout the room, steam visibly rises off of the surface of the water and Purity Ring plays on his small stereo. It isn’t the album you gave to him; it is one of the more recent ones and you begin to smile. You look at him and comment that he’s playing more Purity Ring and you feel that he would have only found it unless he was interested in them.

Wilson stands in the middle of the bathroom looking relaxed but proper. He explains that due to the swing dancing and your hectic week that he thinks the best thing for you is a nice bath. That would match with his idea last night, but you didn’t know how serious he was about that bath comment.

He lets you get a full view of the tub and continues to explain things “Lavender and lemongrass bath salts with a few lavender candles as well. All for relaxation.” 

You are half listening to him, ah, the citrus is actually lemongrass . . . and you feel like it is a dream, or is it a spa dream? Dream spa? Lost in thought, you slowly place your left hand in to the water to feel it. You struggle to speak, as emotions are so difficult to express at times like these.

You barely hear your own voice as you speak, “This. This is unexpected.” Already feeling more emotional than normal you stare at your socks and try to keep the eyes under control as you look at him and feel like they might be wetter than normal, and you thank him.

The ruffling of his hair makes you more self-conscious of his presence and he seems to sense it. He speaks quietly and gently, “Please, go ahead and get in.” as you look at him, he steps up to you and holds you in an embrace and you feel his hands on your waist. His hands deftly move to untuck your blouse from your pants and his fingertips are hot on your bare skin beneath. 

He sounds confident as he follows up with the statement that he can help you undress as well.

And with that your face is on **_fire_**. You swallow and then nod to him. Have you done this before? No, but it seems to logical here with him. His eyes narrow a touch as he looks down at your softly. He then unties the bow on your shirt and then unbuttons the blouse. With the front open you turn so that your back is now facing him. His hands remove the shirt from your shoulders, and it slides off your arms. Before continuing, he reassuringly squeezes your shoulders as he then unhooks your bra. He moves to remove your pants and when he reaches your ankles you step out of them. He then slides his fingers under the waistband of your underwear and also takes them down to your feet. Again, you step out of them and turn to face him only in your socks yet, you can’t meet his eyes just yet. You find your hand in your hair trying to adjust it.

He leans down and gives you a reassuring kiss on the lips and guides your left foot to rest on his thigh to remove your sock. After you put your foot down, he repeats it with your right foot and now you are completely naked before him. You are in a situation you would not have imagined in a million years, but he’s there and it makes it feel natural.

A blush begins to creep across his face to the tips of his ears and he smiles at he offers his left hand to you. You accept it, and he leads you to the tub and even holds on until you settle into the scented bathwater. 

The temperature is perfect, and the lavender and lemongrass scent goes straight to your head as you let go. You let your eyes close shut and the water surrounds you in bliss. It is incredible, he knew what exactly would help with the past few days activities.

You are roused from your aimless bliss by his voice, “If you don’t mind, I can scrub your back, wash your hair or something like that.” 

You slowly open your eyes to see him with his arms resting on the rim of the tub. He must be sitting on a stool you think to yourself.

You can’t hide your happiness as you reply “This is amazing. It also smells so good!” The look of him wanting to pamper you, it just makes you feel that you want to get closer to him. Sure, a back scrub with a spa mitt, would feel good, but you don’t think that is enough.

You smile and sit up in the tub and move towards him with most of your body still under the surface of the water.

As you closer to him, you watch as his eyes get wider and you can tell his waiting for your answer. You then can’t control the smirk across your face as you bring your face close to his. And you tell him that “A back scrub does sound good. . . . but I’m thinking of something else.” 

He looks cute, no, adorable, no, **_fuckable,_** as he tilts his head trying to parse that statement. You don’t give him time to think more as you reach out towards him as you kiss him with enough intent that he should figure out what you want. To make sure he gets your message you stick your fingers into his hair and place your left hand on his neck.

The message is well received as he reaches out to embrace you and his hand pulls on your hair and his right hand actually reaches through the water to touch your back. It catches you by surprise and you make a slight gasp. He teases you by deepening the kiss and you are pretty sure that he can think of better things than some scrubbing. Your entire body is ready to get him into the bathtub now!

All of a sudden you are startled by House yelling “How’s it going Wilson!?!?” and you see House standing in the doorway of the bathroom leaning into his cane.

You only catch this for an instant as Wilson tries to jump back, but you started to lean back at House’s alarm simultaneously and Wilson instead, falls forward into the water with you. As his face hits the water, he makes a yelp while you make a garbled version of “ack” as you slide back into the tub.

You watch as Wilson is able to emerge from the scented water and he turns to look at House in shock and disappointment. His hair is soaked as well as his entire right arm and his shirt is soaked up to the armpit. Wilson then runs his left hand through his wet hair slicking it back as he as a facial expression that you have never seen before, it looks like a calm moment before he explodes. You are incredibly turned on by this side of him. The way he ran his hand through his hair as he collected himself, before he draws the line with House. You want him now but will have to wait until House is out of the bathroom.

Wilson doesn’t yell at House, he speaks to him with a tone of seriousness that it **_just feels_** like he is shouting at House, “ ** _House!_** What the hell are you doing in my bathroom?” 

House now looks like a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar as he wiggles in place unable to look his best friend in the eyes. House’s reply is weak, and you don’t even register exactly what he said in reply because it is Wilson’s follow up that stirs your libido. Something about a bath. . . it doesn’t matter you are watching Wilson.

Wilson’s eyes have narrowed, and his voice is gravelly as he speaks, “House, you **_do not_** get off that easily!”

Oh man, you think to yourself, if Wilson would speak like that in bed it would be so hot. You should be ashamed or embarrassed of this situation but instead you are hot for Wilson and you want House out of the condo, now.

You don’t really notice Wilson as he stands up to approach House. You just want House gone. Going with your gut, you finally speak to House, “Oh, you want a bath? **_That_** can easily be arranged.” 

As you stand up in the tub, you see how House now has his attention towards you away from his friend and you can see the shift in his expression from feeling out of place to “oh shit”. Before he can escape you reach into the tub and scoop an ample amount of water from the tub to hit House. It is like it is in slow motion; you watch the droplets separate from the main body of the liquid and it nails him on his face and chest.

You are ready to hit him with more water as you shout to Wilson to stop him from escaping. As you look at Wilson, he’s beginning to grin like an idiot, just like the evening when House chased you on his bike. Sure enough, in an instant Wilson has caught House in a bear hug and you hop out of the tub to grab House’s only line of defense, his cane.

Wilson is laughing as House has the panicked look of a cat that is surrounded by water and dogs. House looks concerned as he resorts to begging Wilson to relent based on a dislike of scented baths followed by a cry of “Willlsoooooooonnn!” as he’s brought before the tub.

Next to the tub, you cross your arms and plant your feet wide before you tell Wilson to dunk him. You are certain you are letting House know how **_upset_** you are about this.

Before things escalate further a silence falls around the three of you and Wilson finally speaks.

“Greg, I think you need to leave now.” He speaks with a clarity that seems to have nuance below it that only House would understand.

And then House stops fighting completely and quickly agrees to leave. You watch House limp over to pick up his cane before he turns back to both of you.

You are shocked by his hurt facial expression. . . “I rode over on my bike. I’m now soaking wet on my shirt and it is in the 30s. You don’t want to send a cripple home in wet clothing.”

Annoyed by his attempt to feign innocence, you pick up the nearest towel and toss it at House’s face. “Cry me a river. Towel off your wet face and go change into the spare shirt you have here. I suspect you have quite a few items in the condo.”

You catch the beginning of some sort of emotion on House’s face, but he hides it as he wipes the towel over his face. He then replies “Fine, I’ll get myself freshened up.” 

He starts to head out the door before he pauses and looks back. “How’d you know I have a shirt here? Go through all of Wilson’s closets?” House tries to leer at you, as you are naked, but you are beyond that. The nakedness is irrelevant; you tell him what you know.

“Nope, I’m not neurotic as you. It was the retro thermos.” 

Feeling that it was a sufficient answer you get back into the bathtub to relax. You notice Wilson is standing in the middle of the bathroom perplexed as his face contorts itself in small and subtle ways. You catch his attention before he goes to make sure House behaves.

“I’d like to pick up where we left off. Once he’s out the door.” Wilson looks at you with lust in his eyes before he answers.

“Yeah, I’m going to make sure that House exits the door and I’m locking the deadbolt.”

You listen to his footsteps as he follows House and you finally sigh in relief when you hear the bathroom door open again. Wilson enters the bathroom with an urgency in his step and he approaches you in the tub. You reach out to grab him again and he kisses you with a roughness that you haven’t seen from him before.

Taking a breath and pulling back from him as he knees outside the tub, you are shocked at how demanding you sound as you speak to him. 

“Take off your clothes and get into the tub or I’ll do it myself.” And you begin to loosen his tie as you kiss him again. His hands move frantically as he takes off the vest and then unbuttons his shirt. Things are rougher than they have ever been between the two of you as your wet hands help him out of his garments.

It probably would have gone faster if you let him do it himself, but after hearing his tone of voice to House you want him to growl tonight. Finally, naked, he steps into the tub with you and the two of you aggressively kiss and grab each other pulling hair, biting and marking each other’s bodies. It is the complete opposite of this morning.

* * *

You unpeel yourself from Wilson in the tub after pleasuring each other. He had collapsed on you after he had come, and his eyes are half open and you are both getting prune fingers. 

As you stand up, you feel sore from his fingers; his skills at pleasuring a woman are beyond any man you’ve encountered and it looks like you’ll be feeling this for a day or two, but it was totally worth it. The combination of his experience, the warm bathwater and the scent of the lemongrass really created a moment, so to speak.

Wilson then moves as he notices you getting out of the tub to towel off. 

“Hrm, I definitely am going to have to moisturize well after this.” And you then yawn as it has to be past midnight.

“Oh, don’t worry, I’ve got plenty of moisturizers.” and he directs you to all of them in the cabinet as he slowly stands up and pushes down on the lever to open the drain. “We should also hydrate as well.” And with that Wilson wraps a towel around his waist and picks up the clothing strewn across the bathroom.

“I’ll get you some water.” He says this with half-open eyes, and he leaves you to moisturize and you then finally get to put your pajamas on in his bedroom. The clock reads 11:49. You are so ready for bed; it has been an interesting and exhausting evening.

Wilson then enters his bedroom with a glass of water for you and a coaster which he puts on the nightstand. You thank him for it as he smiles and turns into the bathroom to moisturize and brush his teeth and whatnot. The water hits the spot and you feel the cool air of the room contrasting with your incredibly hot body temperature. You just barely make it to the other bathroom to brush your teeth and pee one last time before heading to bed.

With that you get into Wilson’s large queen size bed and settle in.

There is a flush of the toilet and then you hear the sink run as Wilson washes his hands. He then exits his bathroom as he turns off the light. All that remains is the glow of the small bedroom lamps and he has a facial expression you’ve never seen before. It is a cross of contentedness with a lingering air of sex. He’s wearing his comfy looking pajamas and he grins as he gets into bed with you.

And with that he snuggles up to you and kisses you good night before he turns of the lamp. You reach over to turn the other one off and tell him good night as well before you get comfortable. Before you know it, you are out cold after this interesting day.

* * *

Wilson wakes up Sunday morning feeling good. He stretches out as he brushes against his girlfriend. He thinks it is safe to refer to her as his girlfriend now that she took on House in the nude.

He rolls over so that he can snuggle up against her as she breathes deeply in her sleep. Yesterday was intense. He was stressed out about House’s plan for a prank at the swing dance, but he took it to the next level to interrupt them in an intimate moment. 

Normally, House’s disruption would have derailed things. The woman he was with at the time would become annoyed or turned off. She’d leave him to go hang out with House and, sure, his relationship with House would stay the same but at the expense of his own relationship. And House was also a great excuse to ignore any issues in his relationship.

Last night was different, she drew a line in the sand with House and even gave him a taste of his own juvenile antics and it turned him on. He was shocked at how masculine he sounded last night and as she took House on, it made him even more attracted to her.

And it led to amazing sexual pleasure in the bathtub with her . . . they were both so much more aggressive; it felt like House had lit a fire under him and she was explicit in what she wanted. He thinks about what they did last night, and he’s surprised at how unencumbered he was as well. It makes him blush just a little. 

He glances at his clock, it is around 7:30, he can sleep in a little bit more, but he’ll likely get up and make some breakfast in a bit. She will also be anxious to get back to Keith. They left him kibble for this morning, but if he is like all other cats, he likely ate all of it last night.

At 8:30, he gets up, puts on his slippers and robe and heads to the kitchen to start a pot of coffee and make some oatmeal. He then hears the bathroom door shut and the sound of the guest shower running. She emerges after showering looking refreshed and relaxed. 

“Good morning.” She says this as she smiles and walks up to him. He hugs her and gives her a kiss on the cheek. 

“Good morning to you as well. Is coffee and oatmeal good with you?” He smiles at her as he tells her this and she nods back. 

“That’s fine.” and she goes to pour herself a black cup of coffee. She’s dressed simply with a brown and yellow plaid skirt over black tights and a mustard colored long sleeve t-shirt. Unfortunately, it does not cover the hickey that he apparently left on her neck and he looks away blushing before he states that she looks comfortable and cozy in the outfit. She then asks him if he’d like to shower while she watches the oatmeal for him.

It is sweet of her, but he’s almost done cooking it. He tells her that he will just wait until after breakfast is done to shower. 

They don’t say much over breakfast and coffee. Both of them are ‘hung over’ from the intensity of last night and discuss how they need to run errands today before work tomorrow.

It is only when he gets out of the shower that he notices that he also has a hickey right around where the collar of his dress shirt ends. He doesn’t remember when she did that last night . . . but he’ll have to figure out how to cover it. 

Well at least it isn’t an issue today. He gets dressed putting on his most comfortable pair of jeans and his McGill sweatshirt over a white t-shirt. Fully dressed, he then returns to his kitchen to write up his shopping list while she packs up her stuff. 

Before he knows it, he’s dropped her off at her place. She leans into give him a hug and kiss good-bye as before she gets out of his car. It hits him at that moment; he’s dating someone, and things are going to go differently this time. 

“Wait.” He speaks as she’s opening the passenger door. She then pauses and looks at him. 

He leans towards her and he then pulls her into a deep intense kiss and her eyes flutter shut. When he pulls back, he can see the wetness on her lips as she is surprised by his gesture.

“Have a good day and pet Keith for me. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.” He is surprised by his own statement that he isn’t going to talk to her until tomorrow, but it feels right.

She smiles softly before replying, “You have a good day too. And I will definitely pet Keith for you.” And then she opens the door and exits heading to her building. He watches her from behind as she enters the lobby. Just before he pulls away, he catches a glimpse of Keith in the front window. Keith is focused on the street below until he suddenly turns and jumps down, likely on his way to her door.

By time he completes all of his errands it is well after lunch. When he enters his kitchen to unload his groceries he finds a note on his fridge, in House’s regular handwriting. 

**You can return to your perfectly styled hair on time for Monday morning. See you tomorrow.**

House never bothers to sign notes he writes to Wilson. It is likely due to the fact that he is House’s only friend, so that extra detail is irrelevant. He unpacks all of his groceries before he walks into his bathroom. When he pulls open the drawer, his blow dryer is back in the proper location. There is also a new unopened box of condoms and with a yellow post-it note stuck on them.

**Thought you might need more of these.**

And of course, it is his favorite brand; Wilson runs his hand through his hair. He’s far beyond pondering how his best friend knows his preference in prophylactics. The box is also a message from House; it is a combination of an apology and also if he can actually believe it, it might even be a sign of approval. But that might be going too far to read into House’s gift.

There are times when Wilson has actively offered condoms to House, but he has never returned the favor. He blinks a few times stunned. House might actually **_not_** hate her.

The rest of the day is spent in doing laundry, cleaning up the spa related items from his bathroom and calling his relatives to check in on them. Thanksgiving is fast approaching and he’s not sure if he should go home to join his family or stick around town to keep an eye on House, who always finds ways to get into trouble.

Due to his brother’s return to stability last year, they decided to have a low-key Thanksgiving without extended family. His brother is still dealing with anxiety issues and they don’t want him to feel the pressure of dealing with extended family and friends. That decides things for him here, he will stick around and likely join Cuddy and make sure House doesn’t get left out.

He then gets ready for bed and prepares for another week of work.

* * *

When you get back to your apartment, Keith greets you at the door. It isn’t even lunchtime yet, but he acts like he’s never eaten anything since last week. You unpack your dirty clothing and start a load of laundry as you determine what to buy at the grocery store today.

As you put your toiletries back into your small bathroom you notice something you missed earlier this morning – you have a rather obvious hickey on your neck on the right side! When did that happen? Why didn’t Wilson mention it? It is pretty obvious with your current shirt.

Oh well, you can tie a small scarf around it for the next day or so. Things were pretty heated last night . . . it was good.

With laundry tumbling along, you pick up your groceries and call home to talk to your parents. You will be going home for Thanksgiving, and you are looking forward to it. It is the first time in years that you will not be complaining about how your job sucks to other people and you can even drive home in less than a day!

You just aren’t sure if it is time to mention Wilson yet. It has been more than a few weeks, but until last night, you weren’t sure if he was someone you could see yourself date for a longer time period. But seeing that other side of him last night, finally showed you that he doesn’t always act like the nicest guy who is willing to help everyone out. He can be tough and make a stand for himself and it made a part of you want to know even more about him. He might be your boyfriend? Maybe?

Keith sticks close to you the rest of the day and you head to bed early to make sure you can start the work week refreshed.

* * *

Taub is on his way to his Clinic duty as he catches a glimpse of Wilson on his way into Cuddy’s office. He has a certain spring in his step and the two of them seem to have a rather animated conversation in her office.

The rumors have got to be true; Wilson is seeing someone. He wasn’t here long enough at the start of his time on the Diagnostics team to observe his behavior when he was dating Amber. However, he knows enough gossip from the senior nursing staff to know that when Wilson is in the early stages of a relationship, he glows. Today, Wilson isn’t just glowing, he’s positively radiant.

When he returns to the office, the rest of the team is filing paperwork and charting. House is in his office where he is spinning in his swivel chair aimlessly back and forth as he looks off into the distance as he absentmindedly tosses his favourite ball back and forth between his hands.

“What’s up with him today?” Taub asks the collective group. Foreman glances over at House. “Beats me.” Foreman pauses before he continues so that he looks a little bit more engaged, “I’d say something resolved itself for him.”

“Resolved? Perhaps; I’m always suspicious when House is so calm.” Thirteen says this as she takes a sip of her coffee.

Chase then puts his hands behind his head as he leans back in his chair. “It’s Wilson.” He says this as he looks proud of his skills of observation (and the benefit of actually seeing House in action).

All three pairs of eyes turn to him. They all nod, as it is a pretty logical conclusion. 

“But what about Wilson?” Taub asks this as Foreman and Thirteen do not need to know anything more about House’s relationship with his oddly polite and proper best friend. Sure, Wilson is a great guy and does his job well, but they still don’t understand how Wilson and House became best friends.

Chase figures he might as well explain everything that happened Saturday night. So, he tells as much of the story as he can, and he makes sure to mention House’s beautiful piano solo. The rest of the team enjoys learning about a mysterious girlfriend of Wilson’s who was able to sass back at House. They are also surprised that he willingly performed in public. Something about House changed due to Mayfield, or maybe he returned to how he was before the injury to his leg from the infarction.

It is just before noon and they watch Wilson walk by the main office to head to House’s hallway door. Wilson is wearing an unusually dark colored dress shirt, a shade between plum and burgundy and his hair has that natural bounce to it. It all looks perfectly coordinated with a rare dark brown suit and one of his purple paisley ties and of course matching shoes.

They can’t hear the conversation, but Wilson leans into the doorway as House grabs his cane and walks over to the door. It is more than likely the most predictable conversation about going down to the café for lunch. 

House then walks alongside Wilson and he opens the door to address his team as Wilson waits outside in the hallway. “I’m off to lunch with Wilson before he has Clinic duty. Find me a new case, I’m bored.” And with that he turns around and he and Wilson saunter off to each lunch. A lunch that is always paid for by Wilson and eaten mainly by House.

* * *

House decides to go for a ruben with fries and makes sure to pick up some extra candy just to make Wilson pay for a bit more than usual. However, Wilson is clearly basking in the glow of the new relationship, as he pays for both of their lunches. 

They settle into one of their favorite corner tables and Wilson starts on his overly healthy lunch. He has a chicken salad with a side of steamed veggies, yogurt and a banana. Nothing on Wilson’s tray is worth the effort to steal and subsequently eat.

Wilson asks him about this week’s schedule, “You have a new case yet?” and he takes a sip of his coffee waiting for House to reply.

“No, but I told my team I want one by tomorrow. I need something to occupy my thoughts besides your personal life.” He takes a huge bite out of his sandwich and waits for the waffling Wilson reply.

Wilson rolls his eyes and audibly sighs, “You know, you did that to yourself on Saturday night. I know the concept of privacy is a difficult one for you to grasp, but you got what you deserved.” Wilson has a smug look and he cuts into his salad to make it even more bite sized.

“Yeah yeah yeah. I wasn’t expecting her to be so - calm. Most of the women you’ve been with would have shrieked and then left you behind to hang out with me. . . .” House glances to the side as he takes a loud slurp of his fountain drink. “But she went for payback.” House then looks at his best friend with an expression that almost looked like he was impressed. He then shrugs.

“Poker night as usual this week?” Wilson asks House and House responds with a mock look of surprise, also leading to Wilson rolling his eyes again. That is the moment when House catches a bit of a mark on his neck right at his collar. House’s eyes narrow as he stares at Wilson.

Wilson then freezes as he knows that House has noticed something. The two of them look at each other before Wilson nervously looks down and smiles before trying to casually eat some of his streamed green beans. 

“That is a rather unusual choice of color for your dress shirt. Very much unlike you.” House smirks as he licks the grease and salt off of his fingers from his fries. 

Wilson sighs and continues to eat his lunch. “Well, you’ve pointed out many times before that when I dress nice it is to impress someone and since I’m such a vain individual, I do like to look pretty for them.”

House leans forward with his elbows now on the table as only a few fries remain on his plate. “That argument only works when she works here at PPTH. Yet, she doesn’t work here, and you are still wearing a rather handsome outfit. That darker color of your shirt, it is hiding something.”

House is then grinning like an idiot as Wilson prepares himself for some sort of torture.

“Wil~son’s got a hick~ey!” House says this with a sing-song tone of voice as he points at the partially obscured mark on his neck. Wilson turns beet red as he frantically waves his hands at House as he tries to shut him up. 

“Sssssshhhhh! Not that loud, House. I don’t need the entire cafeteria knowing!” Wilson’s voice is a mix of a hissed whisper and he is not thrilled with the teasing.

House dramatically rolls his eyes. “Oh, come on, how old are you again? Forty-two going on Fourteen? Though I have to give it to you, it was very clever of you to hide it by selecting a shirt close in color to the mark. If you would have worn one of your blindingly white shirts, the mark would have stood out a lot more with the combination of your pasty pale skin and the light shirt.”

Wilson fidgets before he settles on a hesitant sounding reply of “Thanks. I think.”

Really wanting to change the topic, Wilson shifts gears, “I ran into Cuddy this morning. We were discussing our plans for Thanksgiving. She and Lucas are having a small get together with her sister and we are invited to join them.”

House’s eyes narrow, “Not going home to see your family?” he seems a little reluctant to confirm that Wilson’s “we” equals House and Wilson.

Wilson sighs and ruffles his hair, “No, my parents decided on a very small gathering for my brother since he’s still recovering from his long time away. He’s really having a difficult time with larger groups of people and if I were to join them, they told me that I would have to come alone.” There is that twinge of sadness in Wilson’s eyes, House knows that finding his brother was important to Wilson, but he still has a lot of guilt around the fact that he didn’t do enough to try to ‘save’ him from becoming homeless. 

He also is smart enough to read between the lines that Wilson going alone means that he isn’t allowed to bring House along, which is what Wilson was intending to do. House will never verbally thank Wilson for trying to include him, but he smiles faintly that Wilson would want to spend the holiday with him.

House nods before asking the obvious question, “Are you suggesting that we join Cuddy and Lucas for Thanksgiving?” he’s not happy with their relationship, but he missed his chance to date Cuddy. Or has it been chances?

“Yep, we are more than welcome to join Cuddy and she even wants you to make some dessert with your newfound kitchen skills. You up to it?” Wilson smiles knowing that House is always baited by any situation that is competitive. 

House leans back in his chair as he looks at the ceiling, “Hrrrmmm, yeah. I’ll have to do something pumpkin related but avant-garde; something like lame pumpkin pie is soooo 1956.”

Wilson then looks at his watch, “Well, I’ve got Clinic duty at 1:30. I’d like to get some paperwork for the clinical trials done before then.” He picks up his tray as he stands.

“Sounds riveting. Bring cheese puffs on Wednesday night.” House tells him this before he opens a packet of M&Ms while Wilson replies with a simple “Okay. Later House.”

* * *

Your Monday morning is uneventful. To cover the embarrassing hickey, you use a scarf as an accent with a black cardigan to look professional yet practical. 

Your boss is also in the office albeit on some intense crutches, and with a large temporary cast. She managed to give herself a wicked spiral fracture and will need surgery to correct things and another cast. Thankfully, she lives close enough to work that she can carpool with others and she’ll be working a slightly adjusted schedule until she can drive by herself again.

As a thanks for covering for her at the last minute, she takes you to lunch in the cafeteria. It was hard to tell if you did a good or bad job covering for her, but apparently, you were fine, and many people were happy with your last-minute leadership skills.

That evening, you cook supper and also prepare a crock pot for tomorrow. Keith keeps an eye on you and seems happy that you are giving him your undivided attention. 

You phone then rings, it is Wilson. After exchanging the banal pleasantries of “How was your day?” he asks you what your schedule is this week. You let him know that you have group pub trivial night on Wednesday, and you are going to attend so that you can connect with more colleagues. 

He tells you that Wednesday is poker night with House this week, and wonders if you would be interested in going out to dinner on Thursday. He has to be at your work campus on Friday morning for the clinical trials; this could make for some shared commuting, if you were interested.

Ah, so he’d like to spend Thursday night at your place. It doesn’t sound too bad; it will give you a few nights to yourself and likely another night on the weekend. He’s giving you the type of space that you need; you appreciate it.

You tell him to pick the place for dinner and that you’ll be looking forward to it and it would be nice if it were walking distance to your place.

He replies that he’ll do his best and to have a good week until then.

* * *

Wilson’s Tuesday is busy filled with meetings, interviewing for a new member of the Oncology Department and also doing his rounds with his patients.

The interview is the longest part of the day, and besides Cuddy sitting on the panel, she has made House also serve as the out of department committee member. He’s shocked to see House agree to sit on the committee since he hates departmental service.

After seeing all five candidates, they rank them and Smith is excited as his favorite rotation student, Doctor Martha Jones comes out on top. She was bumped to the top by House’s vote, who was familiar with a few research publications that she had authored as a medical student and as a resident. Clearly, House respected her resume and he had noticed that she worked remarkably well with Smith, just like Wilson had observed. She is the exact opposite of him in personality, but they had a good professional chemistry and it would add more cohesion to the department’s day to day operations.

Cuddy, informs Susan to begin to draft the offer letter for her and to coordinate with HR. Susan is more than happy to oblige as she made it clear through casual conversations that Jones was her favorite rotating oncology resident due to her serious but friendly attitude. There is also the fact that she was the most organized of all of the residents when it came to scheduling and paperwork.

The interview committee lingers in the conference room and they all catch up on rare chit-chat since they have very busy and varied schedules. Liu and Smith are both discussing how exciting it is to have Jones as the newest team member. Wilson smiles proudly that he’s building a small but good team of oncologists; Liu is glad to have another woman in the department and Smith doesn’t hide the fact that he really enjoys working with her. Cuddy also has a small smile as well, as another woman has joined the team of physicians here at PPTH. Wilson has known her long enough to understand that each additional woman who joins the ranks of PPTH is just another step forward for medicine as a whole for her.

Wilson is about to ask House why he _really_ picked Jones, but his pager beeps. He smiles with glee and quickly gets up. “I’ve got a case. Gotta go.” and he’s out of the room as quickly as he can possibly go. 

Wilson then walks over to Cuddy and sits down next to her to shoot the shit. The interviews ended about 30 minutes early and it is clear the overwhelmed oncology staff and with Cuddy’s jam-packed schedule that everyone is embracing this rare break. 

“I’m pleased with our decision. Jones will be a great addition to the department.” Wilson smiles as he tells Cuddy this. She smiles and leans back in her chair. 

“I agree. You are building a solid department here Wilson. She’ll be a great addition and I’m glad we were able to find someone who works well with Smith.” Cuddy is in a good mood and it is clear she is having a good day.

Wilson nods along. “Hey, I’m trying to make some dinner plans for Thursday night. Can I get suggestions from you?” he smiles and ruffles his hair a little as he asks her.

Cuddy turns to him and cocks her head as she then smiles, knowingly. “So, it is true. You do have a girlfriend.”

“Yes, I am seeing someone. I’m looking for an upscale, but relaxed place near the Historic district.” Wilson isn’t sure how much Cuddy knows, she met her with him once, but his reputation still proceeds him here.

“Is this the woman you had lunch with a few weeks ago?” She asks him this as a friend.

“Yep.” Wilson nods.

“She also the one who have you that hickey?” and Cuddy gestures to the now faded mark on his neck right at his dress shirt collar.

He blushes and ruffles his hair. “Yes.” Wilson’s hand goes to cover the partially visible mark “Did House tell you?” he fears learning the answer.

Cuddy laughs, “Don’t worry, House didn’t declare it in the main lobby or anything like that. He asked me why I thought you were wearing that dark purple dress shirt yesterday. As he was on his way out the door last night, he grinned at me and just said ‘hickey’. You're House’s only friend, so, I knew it had to be you.”

Wilson hangs his head and tries to fight back the blush, but he’s relieved that House didn’t make some sort of public declaration. Another small change in House’s behavior post-Mayfield. It is as though his time recovering from addiction reminded him how to be a person. Or that he can’t keep pushing the few people who care about him away.

“I’d suggest Cloud for dinner. It is quiet, has excellent local food and a seasonally changing menu. Good wine and dessert selection as well.” She smiles as she gives her suggestion. He can tell that she’s happy for him and she stretches as she stands up and sighs. “One more meeting with potential donors and then I’m done for today! Have a good one Wilson.”

He stands and gathers his paperwork as well. “You too Cuddy. Thanks for the suggestion.”

Liu and Smith notice everyone else finally exiting the room and he politely helps her with her stuff and holds the open for her as she moves with intention with her pregnant belly. They continue discussing her plans for mat leave and he inquires if she’s decided on the name for her baby.

Wilson stops eavesdropping on their conversation and he walks back to his office. House is already at the whiteboard in the Diagnostics office as he is excitedly discussing the differential with Thirteen, Chase and Taub. Foreman comes down the hall walking quickly as he just finished up his Clinic hours for the day. Knowing House he likely paged Foreman twenty times.

He settles into his office to wrap up his paperwork and while he prints off some documents for patient files, he dials Cloud to make a reservation for two on Thursday at 6:15. Just as he’s about to head out, House enters his office through the regular door. Must be too cold now to enter via the patio. 

“Wilson, what’s the best test for leukemia now when there are no symptoms?” House keeps him tied up with his initial gut instinct on his newest patient for a good twenty minutes before he has an epiphany and he turns around and heads down to radiology. 

“Okay. Night House.” He says this to a rapidly-moving House halfway out his office door. With that he puts on his scarf, coat, checks that his computer is off and has his pager as he picks up his briefcase before turning off the light and heading to the garage.

He quickly swings by a corner store on his way back home to pick up two bags of cheese puffs; he couldn’t decide between the large smooth puffs or the small knobby crunchy ones. He keeps them in the car, so when he goes to House’s place tomorrow night he’s already prepared. 

As he waits for his microwave to reheat some leftovers, he gives her a call.

“Hello, what’s up?” She asks him as he hears a mew over the phone. “Keith apparently says ‘hi’.”

“Hello, I’ve made a reservation for dinner on Thursday at Cloud; it is about eight blocks from your place. Our reservation is at 6:15. The place is more business casual in dress for your information. I will have to come straight from work; are you okay with meeting me there?” he asks her this even though he’s pretty sure that this doesn’t bother her in the least.

“No problem. I’ll look up the menu online and I’ll see you then. Have a good one.” She seems to be wrapping things up as he hears the sound of a kitchen timer beeping in the background and some movement in the kitchen.

“You too. Bye.” And with that his microwave dings catching his attention.

He settles in to watch a telenovela that he bought the DVD box set of last year. House had snuck into his hotel room several years ago and deleted all of his saved episodes from his queue. When the series ended, it was released on DVD and he made sure to purchase the box set. With all of the crazy things that happened with House and himself, it gathered dust before House moved out of his condo. Now he finally has the time to watch it and after a few episodes, he goes to bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, another chapter comes to an end. I hope it was a good balance of sweet and sexy and not that explicit. Some things are okay to leave to the imagination. For now. 
> 
> And as I move forward into the 'calendar year', I will go off course from the canon content of season 6. I enjoyed the vast majority of the writing for House, but how Cuddy treated House in season 6 at Thanksgiving was uncalled for and left me angry and upset at that decision. Honestly, I wished the creative team could come to a concrete decision on the Cuddy-House relationship. Either they should have resolved things or realized dating each other is a hot mess. But the events of season 7 are when I thought things just got too weird and radical. By season 8 all they had left was House and Wilson and even that ending wasn't quite in line with the rest of the overall character development. But hey, everyone is a critic right?


	12. reservation for two, under wilson

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wilson attends House's more human Poker Night, while she tries to become more social with co-workers with disappointing results.
> 
> At least there is Wilson's romantic dinner for two. Both Wilson and his now girlfriend, (even though she hasn't said it yet) wonder if things are becoming more involved through a series of conversations and events over a fancy dinner.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't help to always notice how when people are in relationships, they give off this vibe that attracts others to them. I've also come to reflect on how we set all sorts of random criteria and expectations for the people we are dating and really some of them aren't that important. Does this person own the entire back catalogue of Flying Saucer Attack albums? Is that really a valid 'deal breaker' or you just being silly?
> 
> In these strange pandemic times, I find myself dreaming of what it would be like to actually go on an intimate date or enjoy a pint at a pub. Since I currently can't to either of these things were I live and the lack of people around me results in shapeless days lacking structure.
> 
> So please, enjoy my overly detailed description of the type of date that I think Wilson would excel at. Which I would want to be on with him.

Wednesday, Wednesday. You are feeling the mid-week blues more than usual, or it is the absolutely terrible weather, cold, grey, wet and so on par for early November. To motivate yourself for your commute to work you go all out and listen to Sleater-Kenney’s “One Beat” and sing along to the album as you try to fight feeling blah. Though you will never get their one line about a “Bunsen plate” because you have absolutely no idea what that means. Do they mean a Bunsen burner or a hot plate? You will never know, and this will always irritate you. 

There is a collective hush over the office and lab today, so you don’t feel as bad being a bit down. It looks like the entire team is also bummed out by the shitty weather. You spend a good portion of the afternoon in the greenhouse to cheat and get some ‘sunlight’ and by the end of your time working with plants, the sun is peaking through the clouds right before it is beginning to set. 

You head back to your office to get the directions for the group going to pub trivia. The organizer is a staff scientist, Matt Doucet, and he was the guy who had made the brownies for Halloween last week and commented on your Doctor Who costume. The pub trivia team is a few staff scientists from your team as well as two guys from the sequencing lab. Trivia starts at 6:30, and Matt and his friend Jay from the sequencing lab usually get there by 6 to get a team name and a spot.

The pub is in a random shopping plaza between your apartment in the Historic District and work, so you swing by your place to feed Keith supper before heading straight back to the pub. It is a standard faux-Irish pub in a strip mall. So, typical, for the type of place that would have Wednesday night pub trivia.

You find the group of people from work and head over to join them, you are about the fifth person to get there out of a group of seven. Though, based on the arrangement of chairs you are directed to a seat between Matt and Kevin. Both men are what you’d describe as generic nerds, Matt is a slightly balding white guy with thin wire frame glasses that aren’t trendy, and Kevin is a skinny Asian guy wearing a Gundam t-shirt. A quick glance at the rest of your teammates and you notice the other four are all wearing wedding rings and Matt and Kevin appear to be single or at least not married. 

You realize you will likely need a beer ASAP and try to focus on the menu before trivia starts. Thankfully, like all generic suburban faux-Irish pubs, this place has fish and chips and Murphy’s on tap, so you dive in and order both. Matt and Kevin explain the trivia format as you wait for your drink. There are four rounds of questions with 15-minute breaks in between. The team has a sheet of paper and you submit your answers at the end of each round. They excitedly inform you that the team name is ‘Powered by Plants’ and you just nod along.

The first round of questions are mainly older pop culture related ones which you are no use to for you team, while some of the older members are able to contribute. During the first round you are able to eat your food to avoid too much small talk, you want to watch and see what everyone else says first before you participate in the conversation.

But with the break between the second and third round you have no excuse. Matt launches into questions first, but you can tell Kevin also has things to say.

“Since you dressed up as the Thirteenth Doctor, I’d guess you know more about ‘Doctor Who’? How would you rank the Doctors?” Matt doesn’t even ease into it, he wants your best of list off the top. You ponder to yourself if you are actually a character in ‘High Fidelity’? I mean from watching the show, you obviously have a preference for Doctors . . .

You take a sip of your stout before replying, “If you are asking my opinion of which Doctor is my favorite than it would be; Ten, Twelve, likely Thirteen, Nine and then Eleven.” 

Matt makes a shocked gasp, while Kevin says, “I told you so.” 

You look to Kevin, “What?” 

Kevin grins and replies, “Oh well Matt and I were guessing which Doctor you’d put first. I figured you’d pick Tennant and Matt thought Smith, though having Capaldi that high up on your list was surprising.”

You are annoyed by this situation and something is stirring just under the surface, like they are trying to show that they have you figured out. 

You quickly retort back, “What’s surprising about liking Peter Capaldi’s performance as the Twelfth Doctor? He’s an excellent actor; have you not seen him in ‘Fortysomething’ or even better yet, ‘The Thick of It’, a fine piece of political satire.”

Matt then jumps in, “Well, it is well known that Tennant and Smith were the ‘boyfriend’ Doctors so lots of women really like them.”

You are getting even more annoyed with this conversation, but you feel the need to respond, “Of course David Tennant is an attractive person, but that isn’t why he’s my favorite Doctor; I really liked his performance and how it worked well with RTD’s writing and direction for the show. But really, I think the trivia will be starting up soon and I should go to the bathroom.”

And with that you excuse yourself. Ugh, you are beginning to get the vibes of those dudes at comic bookstores that feel the need to tell you things about what comics you should be reading. As you are washing your hands, your phone pings, telling you that you have a new text message. As you return to the table you head Matt and Kevin discussing their upcoming model assembly workshop and check the message.

Oh, this is interesting, it is from Wilson. Again, a rare instance of texting from the man. 

**_Are tomatoes in the same genus as potatoes? Thanks._ **

This is an out of the blue question, but then you recall that tonight is Poker Night with House. There must be a debate about things. Oh, poor Wilson, he’s likely on the losing side of this one.

You type a quick reply before the next round of trivia starts.

**_Yes._ **

You then have to put your phone away to not cheat at trivia and you order another half pint, since you sense that you will need it.

Thankfully, this round of trivia has questions that you can answer based on your random life experiences.

What was the first MP for Manitoba? _Riel_. What is modern city is the old Northern Pass across from the Pacific to the Atlantic? _El Paso_. Name a member of a punk rock band with a Ph.D. _Milo Aukerman_ and _Greg Graffin_.

You feel a bit better and your teammates begin to notice that your knowledge base is a bit more random than they have suspected.

Round three wraps up and you have a chance to check your phone finally. You had put in on silent and you find two new messages.

**_Dammit, House is right._ **

**_[frowny face emoji]_ **

You smile to yourself as you are touched by his use of the emoji. That is really radical for him and it is cuuuuuuute.

Matt notices you looking at your phone; he asks about it, “Something funny?” 

You glance back up realizing that you may have been a bit too obvious. “Oh no, just a friend needed a plant biology consult. I suspect that he lost a bet.”

Matt seems perplexed and cautiously leads to another question, “So, besides Doctor Who, are there any other things you are interested in? Comics? Sci-Fi? There is this really neat pop culture/comic art exhibit at a local museum that ends this month. Are you interested in seeing it?”

You immediately feel that swirl of nervous butterflies in your stomach. A small part of your brain begins to panic. _Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit, oh shit, oh shit_. He’s already jumped to the super nerdy questions and you aren’t sure how to reply, but you are pretty sure he’s asking you out on a non-date-date or something like that. You fidget and play with your pint glass before hesitantly replying.

“I’m interested in a lot of things, but I try not to stick to any one type of media or pop culture thing. . . .” 

it is at this moment when your brain begins to think more seriously about Wilson. What the **_hell_** brain? You’ve always seen your personal life, as well personal, and it hasn’t been a habit to be public or open at work about relationships. But maybe now would be a good time to mention you are seeing someone? Or not? You honestly can’t decide so you go with a lame ass cop out reply.

“If you are referring to the comic/pop art exhibit at the museum, I already saw it. Sorry.” And you feel stressed out on even saying that.

Kevin then speaks, “I’ll go with you Matt, I mean, I’ve already seen it, but I need to understand that short film!” and Matt looks disappointed and you feel awkward sitting between them. How much longer of this nerdly torture mix of both being hit on and content gatekeeping?

Thankfully, the final round starts, and you make a note to get your check now, so that when the round ends you can make a quick exit to your car and back to your apartment.

You team does come in the top three but aren’t good enough to take home the gold. With the trivia over, you make sure to escape before any more awkward small talk. Finally, in the safety of your car, you release a huge sigh of relief and realize you were not considering dating some guy due to the size of his comic book collection or if he thinks that some mecha series is the next thing since EVA. . . 

Keith greets you at the door and you brush him while the hot water boils in the kettle for some chamomile tea. You definitely need to relax, and you remind yourself that tomorrow is dinner with Wilson, and you start to get a grasp of why he’s so different than past boys.

* * *

Wednesday morning, Wilson is woken up by a phone call from House at 5:50am. He’s had some breakthrough in his case, but he needs Wilson to sign off on a procedure as the Head of Oncology for a 7:00 am start time.

Half awake, he grumbles a reply that he’ll do it. As soon as he says that, House has hung up on him. He gets that saving a patient isn’t House’s number one driving goal, but he’s certain having the test happen at 8:00 am instead of 7:00 am won’t make that much of a difference. He shuffles into the kitchen to start a pot of coffee and boots up his laptop. 

Using his Department Head privileges, he’s able to log into the scheduling manager and clears House’s procedure for 7:00. House is going to owe him for this favor. As to not waste his early morning, he makes himself some eggs and toast, and then approves any other online paperwork before getting into the office today. He’ll make sure to clock out early before Poker Night, so he can get organized for Thursday.

With an earlier than normal shower, he’s about the door by 7:00 (since he wants to check in on House’s procedure) and then he’ll do all of his standard paperwork in the morning, a few rounds, lunch and then consults and meetings with patients until 4. 

Thirteen is in the control room and Wilson checks in with her as House is absent (he wasn’t in his office either). She’s got a large cup of coffee and bags under her eyes, yet her eyeliner is still on point. He had to give it to her, she’s got one part to her ‘signature’ look which is always solid.

“How’s it going? You think this is the right test?” Wilson asks her this as she shrugs.

“It should get us closer to figuring out what’s wrong. House is being his unconventional-conventional self, but at least we can eliminate some forms of cancer which helps.” She is always blunt in regard to cases, but so quiet about herself.

“Well, I’d figure I’d check in on things, since House wanted this done ASAP.” He says this to end the conversation gently as he begins to walk out the door.

“Hey Wilson.” Thirteen seems calm as she catches his attention.

“Yes?” He is confused what she would want.

Thirteen then smiles, “I hear you are seeing someone. I’m glad to hear it.”

He feels a slight blush and he ruffles his hair. “Thanks.” And with that he leaves the room and heads back to his office to do as much paperwork as possible and hide from everyone else since it looks like House **_did_** spread the word about his personal life. . .

Miffed about House’s big mouth, he takes the long way to the Oncology wing to do his rounds, avoiding walking by the Diagnostics office. And he takes the long way back to his office before lunch. He’s almost not in the mood to have lunch with House; actually, he definitely isn’t in the mood for lunch with House.

So, at 11:45 he slips out of his office and House catches him in the hallway. “Wilson, I’ve got to make a call down to UPenn for some experimental drugs, no lunch until 12:30. I’ll come grab you.” 

Wilson nods, “Okay.” And he changes his plan by heading towards the bathroom.

“Where you going?” House seems perplexed as Wilson doesn’t just go back into his office.

He’s feeling annoyed but he shakes it off, “I’m going to the bathroom. Unless you want to come with me.” Wilson knows House isn't the type to chase him into the bathroom, though tempting it may be if it were part of a prank.

House replies, “Oh no, I only go to the bathroom with you went we need to gossip about Cuddy.” House twirls his cane and heads into his office to make his phone call.

In the clear, Wilson does follow through by going to the bathroom and then he immediately heads down the cafeteria. The special of the day are tacos with a side of beans and rice. It sounds good and he takes it to one of the small corner tables and pulls out a journal to skim over the articles as he eats. He keeps an eye on his watch, and when it is 12:30, he picks up his tray, shoves the folded journal under his left arm and returns his tray. Then able to pull the journal from out of his armpit, he holds it in his right hand and he casually heads back to his office.

The hallway is oddly quiet, and he opens his office door with just an extra level of alertness. After Saturday night, he’s thinking House won’t be lying in wait, but then again, House would do it since he’d expect Wilson’s guard to be down.

He sighs in relief as his office is how he had left it and he can sign off on paperwork and then prep files for some consults and meeting with patients about their current treatment plans. He puts on the Charlotte Gainsbourg album and gets to work. Just before 1, House flies into his office to see Wilson look up from highlighting a handout for a patient. Wilson puts on his best, “Oh goodness, I was busy . . .” expression as House’s eyes narrow.

“I’m starving Wilson, let’s go get some lunch!” House hops back and forth with nervous energy.

Wilson ruffles his hair with his right hand as he’s still got the highlighter in his left. He looks down before making eye contact with House, “I’m sorry House, I forgot I had additional paperwork to get done before my meetings. I just grabbed something really quick and came right back to my office.” House looks around his office, he clearly sees the massive pile of paperwork and the fact that Wilson still has a ways to go; Wilson fiddles with his highlighter and then turns his attention back to the paperwork. 

It seems good enough for House, he sighs and exits, “Just make sure you are done in time for Poker Night! I’m counting on you for those cheese puffs.”

Wilson looks up and smiles as he raises his right fist, “I’m your man for cheese puff delivery. Don’t worry.”

House nods back to him, “I knew I assigned the right man to that task. Later Wilson, don’t care too much about your patients.” And with that, House is off to find his own lunch.

Wilson then pauses, House seemed keen on Poker Night, and made no reference to his relationship which was unusual. Could it be that House was not the source to the rest of his team? Nah, that would be so unlike House. . . unless . . . no. . .

The rest of his afternoon is filled of giving care instructions to patients, holding hands for those receiving their diagnoses, and being a consult on some cases with Liu and Smith. He anxiously looks at his watch as he begins to feel the late afternoon zap his energy. Thankfully, things wrap up just after 4. He hurries to pack up his briefcase and heads to the garage to head home. 

His first priority is to pack his overnight bag for Thursday night, as he has the clinic trial reviews on Friday morning, so he’ll need a full suit and tie for that. A basic black suit will do and starts to reach for a white shirt when he remembers how she commented on how conservative he looked the last time. Maybe he could be a bit more exciting? He always has had a preference for striped shirts, he pulls down a salmon and cream shirt, and selects a grey and salmon tie with a simple diamond pattern on it. With that sorted, he chooses tomorrow’s outfit that is dinner ready. 

He goes for his orange and blue striped shirt and his fun orange, blue and navy striped tie. It is his classic, “I look good” combination. All that is left is some wool socks, flannel pajama pants and one of his super soft long sleeve cotton t-shirts. He also ups his toiletry game, a new toothbrush, tube of toothpaste and a full container of moisturizer all get tossed in along with some hair product. He’s going to leave some of them at her place.

Before heading over to House’s apartment, he changes into jeans, a t-shirt and his McGill sweatshirt with tennis shoes. He went ahead and ordered some pizza to be delivered since, even though cheese puffs are good, he is feeling a little guilty about avoiding House. Maybe just a tad. So a friendship offering of pizza will suffice.

When he arrives, he brings in the cheese puffs and places them on the table; he recognizes a few of the guys from House’s old Poker Night years ago. House is excited by both types of cheese puffs and he declares only Wilson would not know which one to choose and purchase both. This time, House introduces Wilson to the guys and uses their actual names, so instead of ‘bus stop guy’ he’s now Frank or Tim or Stephen. 

The doorbell then rings and House looks perplexed as he opens the door to find the pizza delivery gal. House then turns back to them and yells louder than necessary, “Someone order a pizza?”

Wilson waves his hand like a keener in a classroom, “Oh I did, let me come get it.” And he leaves helping the other guys set up to take the pizza into House’s kitchen to put a slice or two on a plate. “I ordered enough for anyone who is interested.” House’s eyes narrow as he looks at him again but goes to pick up a slice for himself. 

Now settled around the table, Wilson is about to deal the cards out when House stops him, “Wilson just a minute, we are waiting for one other person.”

Wilson stops and then fiddles with the cards before him, wondering who else would be coming. A quick knock is followed by the door opening and Chase walks in with a six-pack of craft beer.

“Sorry I’m late, I just finished administering the first round of the experimental drug. Taub is taking over until Foreman and Thirteen get back from dinner.”

House nods in approval and takes one of the beers from Chase as he heads from the kitchen to the table. With that Chase offers a beer to everyone else, Tim and Stephen accept a beer each and Wilson decides he’ll have one too. The group then settles into House’s crammed table and the banter begins.

Tim apparently is curious about Chase and states if he weren't already married, he’d ask him for his number. Chase blushes just a bit and politely thanks Tim for the complement but that he’s straight. House adds in that is really is a waste, since Chase does have quite nice hair. And the rest of the guys laugh as Chase pouts. With the topic of hair over the table, Wilson calls House on his hand and his bluff, winning him the current pot. House annoyed by his loss to Wilson adds to the commentary, “As nice as Chase’s hair is, Wilson is really next level grooming. Can you **_believe_** that this man has a $150 blow dryer?”

Wilson rolls his eyes as he takes a bite out of his last slice of pizza. This has clearly caught Tim’s attention, “Maybe I should be paying more attention to you now?” it is clear that Tim is being a tease, but Wilson nervously starts to reply “Now, I don’t think it was one hun” only to be cut off by Chase.

“That explains your perfectly styled hair! What does your girlfriend think about it?” Chase seems honestly interested he as he sips his beer. “I still can’t believe you are actually dating someone from the speed dating event.” 

And that comment attracts everyone’s eyes to Wilson.

He ruffles his hair and his right hand lingers on his neck as he looks up their expectant faces under his eyebrows. He needs something to wet his throat before he replies, and he takes a quick sip of beer, but it is fizzier than expected and he coughs a little. Wilson wonders if he'll ever be able to be smooth in situations like this.

“And?” Stephen asks with a pregnant expectation of something juicy.

Wilson clears his throat, “Okay, so I’m seeing someone right now. And I met her at a speed dating event about two months ago.”

Chase seems keen to know more, even though he already has some idea what is going on. Even with his shorter haircut, there is something about Chase being able to channel the excitement of a small child, this is likely why he gets along with House so well. 

House folds and Chase and silent Frank are all that is left; Wilson and the others already left this round. Frank calls but loses to Chase’s hand, a straight flush. He grins as he pulls all of his chips in and tosses a few cheese puffs into his mouth before Frank deals out the next hand with stern and silent concentration.

“What’s she like? I mean what is she really like?” Chase is looking at Wilson and again all eyes are on him.

Wilson grimaces, he’s unsure if that is his response to Chase’s question or about the shit hand he was just dealt. He shrugs and finally replies, “She’s nice. She’s independent, cute, and enjoyable to spend time with.”

House fidgets as he raises his bid and Wilson folds before he even gets crushed. The other guys nod along. Chase also matches House’s raise and looks over at Wilson. 

Chase speaks to Wilson directly, “I do agree that she is cute, and she has seemed like a good person to hang out with. The independent part though-“ Chase never finishes his statement as Tim raises the whole pot by three-fold and House and Chase both fold.

House is now looking at Chase with suspicion, “How would you know so much about Wilson’s girlfriend?” 

Chase is re-stacking his chips to see how many he actually has as he lazily replies, “Well, I met her at the speed dating, and then at the swing dances.”

House gestures to his heart making a wounded expression all the while looking at Chase, “I can’t believe you held out on this information for so long – I would have known about Wilson’s relationship earlier! Come on Chase! Information **_is_** power!” and after dramatic pause adds in “Power over Wilson!”

Chase laughs as he is up to deal, “Yeah, since **_asking_** your best friend is _**so** _difficult.” 

House grabs a handful of pretzels and chews them loudly, “You don’t understand the basis of Wilson’s relationships, they are always out of a need to help. He’s dating her because she is new in town and he’s her tour guide. What’s she think of your weekday Poker Night attendance?” House’s eyebrows are cocked up in a weird angle as he leans towards Wilson.

Wilson crunches on a few cheese puffs and licks off the neon orange dust, “I don’t think she thinks much of it, she’s out for some pub trivia night with co-workers.”

House searches Wilson’s face for more information, but it is clear that he’s telling the truth. Wilson can almost see the gears in House’s head turning; he’s trying to see where she needs Wilson’s need to be needed. Thankfully, Stephen changes the topic of the conversation and he was wondering if anyone knew about any trivia nights that were walking distance to the campus.

The rest of the evening is a wash so to speak for Wilson. He never got dealt another decent hand, and he spends the rest of the evening folding in order to keep his one big win from earlier. The guys discuss the Flyers and the Devils and if they think it will be a cold winter or not. 

Somehow, they get stuck on the inter-relatedness of various items in the grocery store. Stephen said he was surprised when he learned that tomatoes and potatoes were the same or very closely related. Wilson is shocked at this and says it can’t be; they are pretty different as far as one is a fruit and the other is a tuber. Chase thinks they might be in the same genus. House scoffs at everyone and insults them for not keeping up on the plant genome sequencing results and the reclassification of species with this new genetic information.

Wilson isn’t sure and he feels that he has to counter House’s argument. He needs a consult and decides to text his girlfriend. She’s a plant biologist. He pulls out his phone and sends her a quick text. This doesn’t get past House, “What was that Wilson? Texting while playing poker? I’m offended.”

“Oh, just a quick consult.” Wilson smirks as House looks at him as the game continues. 

A few minutes later the phone pings indicating a new text. He excitedly checks the phone as House watches him closely as they check their cards. Wilson feels his face drop in disappointment, a one word reply of “Yes.” Confirms that House is correct. 

“What did she say?” House wiggles his eyes as Wilson rolls his eyes and sighs. “She confirms that tomatoes and potatoes are in the same genus.” House roars with laughter and slaps his thigh with his free hand as he is beyond amused.

Wilson’s pride is taken down a notch, but he sends her a text, **_“Dammit, House is right.”_** For good measure he adds in a frowning face emoji. 

Around 9:30, Tim states he’s due back home before 10. His husband is almost done with his shift in the ER at Princeton General. Chase looks sleepy as their case is hopefully resolved this evening, and Stephen and silent Frank all make the moves to head home. As the guys gather up their stuff, Wilson springs into action to help House tidy up. He rinses the beer bottles before he places them into the blue bin, puts bag clips on the potato chips, cheese puffs and pretzels. House helps him out collecting the plates and putting the leftover pizza on a plate in the fridge with some saran wrap. He then washes off the plates before loading them into his dishwasher.

“You think you solved the case?” Wilson asks House this as he wipes down the table with a damp cloth. 

House slowly makes his way into the living room drying his hands off with a tea towel. “Yeah, if the patient sees improvement over night with the experimental treatment, I’d say case closed.”

Wilson nods as he passes House with the wet cloth, to rinse off in the sink and then wash off his own hands. “Well that is good to know.” He then shows his wet hands to House and with a nod, House tosses the tea towel to him so he can dry off his hands. Neatly, he places it back on the rack to dry and he heads into the living room to put on his winter coat and scarf.

House stands there and looks at him, it is as though he wants to say something, but he’s unsure how to start. So, Wilson starts for him. “Friday night take out and TV?”

House opens his mouth, yet nothing comes out for a second. He bows his head slightly, “Bamboo Garden and the trashiest reality TV possible. I want to feel like I need to clean every orifice of my body by the end of it.”

Wilson smiles, “Sure, I’ll pick up the usual. My place at 7?” and he’s feeling a bit better than earlier today. He’s still not sure how Thirteen knew that he had a girlfriend, but it is clear that House isn’t publicly humiliating him yet.

He opens the door and turns to House halfway through the door, “Night House.”

House smiles and approaches to lock it, “Night Wilson.”

Wilson yawns on the way to his car parked right outside of House’s building. The drive is fast and dull as the garage is silent on a weeknight this late. He sighs as he opens his condo door; he toes out of his shoes and is more than ready to get to bed. Thankfully, he has everything already laid out. He drinks a glass of water, showers and puts on his pajamas and falls asleep quickly. This time, he only keeps his pager near his bed and puts his phone on silent in case House calls too early in the morning.

He wakes up to the sound of his alarm and he feels much better than yesterday, having oatmeal and a banana with coffee for breakfast. With his dinner date later today, he puts extra effort into his appearance today with his hair perfectly styled and he tosses some cologne and deodorant into his briefcase to spruce up before heading out to dinner.

It is another overcast day, but at least it isn’t raining. The day seems to drag, and when House pokes his head in his office as he tries to interpret some confusing test results. Either, a sample got mixed up, or the patient’s metabolism has greatly changed in a week.

House is relaxed as they head down to the café. He’s got that strut, indicating that he solved his case and he’ll bask in the glory for a day or two, while attempting to avoid Clinic duty. Wilson was already called and emailed by Cuddy to make sure House shows up for Clinic duty after lunch today.

House gets a pulled pork sandwich with fries and Wilson thinking of his dinner later tonight errs on the side of caution, getting soup and salad with a yogurt. He’s going to indulge a little. Though it wouldn’t hurt to impose a small fry tax. He reaches out to grab a few of House’s fries (that he clearly paid for) before House is crying bloody murder.

“Wilson, those are my fries! Are you on a diet with today’s lunch? I hate to tell you, but there are things more important than looks.” House makes a faux serious face at him as he then finishes off his sandwich as the BBQ sauce runs down House’s chin.

Wilson holds his hands up falsely accused of fry theft and dieting. “Hey, I just wanted a few fries, I mean I did pay for them.”

House slurps on his fountain drink and looks back and forth, “Only I am supposed to steal your fries, not the other way around. Or could it be that you are planning on eating more later on today.” 

Wilson smiles and looks away before he goes back to his salad.

House’s right finger points across the table, “You are, aren’t you?” House’s blue eyes are sparkling, “Oh that explains it, the handsome outfit, the light lunch. You are taking her out to some place fancy-pancy.” 

Wilson sighs as he shrugs, “Yes, you’ve found me out. After interrupting me with my girlfriend on the weekend in a less than ideal situation, you now have strong evidence that I might be performing other behaviours associated with dating; like taking her out for a nice dinner. I’m clearly a **_radical_** romantic.”

House sighs and looks at the ceiling as he speaks, “Doctor James Wilson, always following the ‘rules’ of courtship.” House then looks directly at Wilson before he continues, “Doesn’t it get boring, you know - with your memorized moves?”

Wilson is taken aback, he agrees that his dates are conventional, but it isn’t the safety of the date that he is interested in, it is the woman that he is with. And it is clear that he’s with a very different sort of woman this time. He thinks about explaining this and he almost says something, but House cuts him off, “Don’t worry, I think if I were to try to crash your fancy dinner, she might stab me with a fork. I’m more perplexed that you are more than free to socialize with me on Friday night.”

Cuddy then enters the cafeteria with Smith and the newest hire, Jones. It looks like she’s having lunch with them to go over the roles that Jones will step into very quickly with Liu’s fast approaching mat-leave.

If is only a brief but icy glance from Cuddy that stirs him to check his watch. Shit, he was supposed to have herded House to the Clinic ten minutes ago. Even through there was ample wailing and gnashing of teeth, Wilson is able to get House to the Clinic and the head nurse adjusts House’s schedule to meet his required hours for the day.

The rest of his rounds, appointments and paperwork move at a glacial pace. He can’t believe how slow the afternoon is going, he hasn’t felt this trapped since he was in his high school English class watching the hands on the clock as they discussed “Jane Eyre” – or was it “Wuthering Heights”? Doesn’t matter, it was a Bronte sister and it was painful.

When 5:50 finally arrives he’s almost ready to dash out the door. But not until he’s freshened up. He reapplies his deodorant and one quick spritz of cologne; he doesn’t want to smell like he doused himself in it. Then with much haste, he walks to the garage avoiding any small talk by nodding and smiling at nurses along the way and with that he’s free! He hums to himself as he listens to NPR on the way to the Historic District and parks his car near her apartment. Pulling down the visor, he peeks in the mirror to check his hair, still styled with that perfect bounce. It is fairly cold, but to avoid messing it up, he pulls his scarf up to cover his ears. Double checking the time, he sees that it is 6:10, he’s got five minutes to walk the few blocks to Cloud. 

Just at 6:15, he pulls open the door to see her waiting for him in the foyer of the small bistro. She’s still wearing her winter coat, a black wool peacoat that goes almost down to her knees. All that is visible are a pair of black tights with a shimmer to them and ankle boots with a two to three-inch heel. Most striking is the fact that she is wearing a dark red lipstick. It makes this moment seem more serious and he can’t wait to see what else she is wearing. She has a smaller purse than usual, and she fidgets with the handle slightly.

“Good evening” he greets her as he goes to give her a kiss. Right at that moment, a server catches his attention that their table is ready. She smiles softly as he lets her walk before him and his right-hand settles on her lower back as they are led to their table.

* * *

You wake up Thursday morning in a pissy mood. Even though you left the awkward work group pub trivia as soon as possible last night, the unwanted attention you got from those two guys has left a bad taste in your mouth.

Keith senses your foul mood and leaves you to pout as you make your coffee and eat some cold cereal. Since the restaurant is so close to your place, you have decided you will simply change once you get home from work. Unfortunately, you forgot to look up the menu last night so as you drink your coffee you look at the menu on your tablet.

You blink once or twice to double check the prices on the menu, or the fact that many are missing and are simply listed as market price. This place is waaaaay beyond most places you have eaten at before. Do all doctors eat at places like this all the time? Or just ones that are worried about their image? Or impressing people? Wilson’s already done plenty to impress you, so that doesn’t quite make sense. Or is he used to taking women out to places like this?

You are unable to figure out what this means in regard to Wilson, but it does mean that you will have to take your outfit more seriously; at least you have all day at work to think about it. You make an active decision to dress low key at work today; thankfully you aren’t on the exact same team as Matt and Kevin is in the sequencing facility that you rarely meander by. Black jeans, your red dress shirt and the grey sweatshirt over it. 

The day is overcast, but it looks like it will be dry; not a bad kinda of day you think as you drive into work listening to Skinny Puppy’s album ‘Bites’. You are setting up a mutant screen, so the entire morning is spent in the greenhouses potting your plants with some technicians. Here in the quiet under the hum of the sodium lamps you listen to more industrial on your outdated ipod. Sure, you could put music on your phone, but you spent hours transferring album after album to your ipod; plus, it still **_works_**.

At lunch you make it back to your office to eat some leftovers and you look at the menu again. Fine, the menu is intimidating, but it does have local ingredients and maybe you should just go with one of their _prix fixe_ meals? Less stress and indecision involved there.

The tougher decision is what to wear; it is forecast to dip down to freezing, and you hate being too cold. You do have a dress from an independent designer buried in your closet that you wore a long time ago. It has long sleeves, is lined and it has a flattering drape where it falls right at your knees and is neither form fitting or too loose. Just this perfect balance of fashionable, unusual and flattering. The fabric is almost black with a blue tint. You can match it with a pair of fancy black tights that have a shimmer to them and basic black ankle boots. 

Make-up is not your strong suit, so you decide to put on light foundation, some powder and you’ll bust out a liquid lipstick, a dark red, but that’s it. Some perfume and a quick dash of dry shampoo to your hair and it will be fine.

With your outfit sorted out, you head down to the break room for a cup of coffee before attending two different team meetings. You’ll need that extra boost to power through the meetings, which are your most hated part of this job. Then again, you’ve always abhorred meetings. . .

The second meeting seems to draw on forever and when it finishes at 4:30, you are keen to get back to your office and to head home. First, you have to recycle all of that coffee and you use the bathroom. As you exit, you almost bump into Matt as he’s carrying a huge stack of boxes on his way down to the lab. 

He apologizes and then begins to chat to you about pub trivia next week. You really don’t have time for this, and you aren’t interested in being hit on by co-workers.

You apologize to him, but state that you have dinner plans and you really need to leave. He seems to nod and accepts it. But right as you walk away, he asks where you are going.

Not wanting to be stuck any longer, you reply that you are going to some place called Cloud and you head into your office, put on your coat, place your laptop in your messenger bag and speed walk out the main doors to the parking lot.

Needing to regain some calm, you pull out Perfume Tree’s album “Feeler” and put it into the CD player. And with that your car is filled with the ambient/electronic/trip hop mix that is late 90s Vancouver. It reminds you of your best friend and you think it would good to call him soon. You have much to update him on. As the CD spins the deck, it speeds along your arrival at your place by 5:20 and you feed Keith his supper. 

Not rushing too much, you at least try change into matching underwear. You don’t have any coordinated underwear, but you can at least match the colors, or you hope you have the right clean pairs that match. Feeling bold, you put on your only pair of thin silky underwear in magenta and you are stuck with a lacy black bra since you lost the color coordination battle (the closest bra is in the dirty clothes hamper). At least you tried, yet you think it is meaningless, but maybe guys appreciate it? The tights seem to be thick enough to keep you warm and you use a jasmine based perfume and finally pull on the slinky, yet flowing dress.

Foundation and powder are easy enough, but you put all of your concentration into getting the dark red lipstick on without any obvious wiggles. Keith watches you with great interest from the toilet seat. When you are pleased with it you look at him in triumph as he mews at you once before leaping down and heading to the living room window to watch the traffic below.

Feeling a bit anxious, you decide to head out, even though it is only 5:50. You pull down a warmer scarf, and put on your winter wool peacoat, a knit hat and get your mittens ready. Knowing that Wilson will insist on paying for dinner, you bring a smaller than normal purse, a simple white Vivian Westwood handbag with enough room for your phone, tissues, wallet, keys and extra lipstick (even though this is supposed to be long lasting). As ready as possible, you tell Keith to not burn down the apartment and you will see him later.

It is much cooler as you walk along your street to the commercial area with many shops and restaurants. As you turn onto the side street where Cloud is located, you go by a small local pop culture shop that has used CDs and records, books, as well as comics. There are flyers for upcoming shows in the windows, and something catches your eye; Purity Ring are on tour and they are playing Philly in early December. You are immediately excited; you have got to go to the show! And it is at the Electric Factory! Now, that is a venue you haven’t been at in ages (at least 15 years or more) and you need to look up how to get tickets and hope it isn’t sold out yet.

You then tear yourself away from the concert listings and enter Cloud. The bistro is small, there is a foyer with two benches to sit at and the entire place is lit atmospherically. The bar and the tables around it are dark with small candles on the tables and only a fireplace in the corner generating a soft glow. The other half with just tables is brighter with industrial style chandeliers and a turn of the century vibe in décor. The faint sound of instrumental music plays in the background and there are no TVs in the entire establishment. This is a place where there are no obvious or overwhelming distractions. You are about ten minutes early, so you approach the small podium where the hostess greets you politely.

She asks if you have a reservation, and you reply that you do, and it is under the name Wilson. She smiles as she finds it. You explain that you arrived before your date and you are okay with just waiting here for him.

The hostess replies that she will inform your server that your party will be ready soon, so that as soon as he arrives, you can be seated. 

The temperature is not overly warm, so you only remove your mittens and hat. Right at 6:15, the door opens, and Wilson walks through with a look of relief on his face. His eyes immediately fall upon you and he greets you while stepping towards you.

He kisses you on the lips as he pulls you in for a hug. At that moment the server approaches the both of you to lead you to your table. Wilson lets you walk before him and his right-hand settles on your lower back as you walk to the table.

* * *

Wilson is immediately more aware of her appearance than usual. It is a mix of the sound of her heels on the floor as she walks, the shimmer of the black tights and her unexpected use of lipstick, when she’s kept her make-up to a minimum. Their server leads them to a table for two next to the window that looks out onto the street. There is a small coat hanger for their table on the wall and he feels obligated to hang her coat up for her. 

She places her purse on the chair as she unbuttons her coat and she carefully removes her scarf and sticks it into the sleeve of the coat. 

“I’ll hang that up for you.” he offers his hand to her and she smiles as she hands him the coat over.

As he takes the coat from her, she speaks, “Thank you.” and she is waiting to sit when he does. He finally has a full look at her almost black dress that drapes along her body in the most flattering way. It stops just above her knees and it is just tight enough to highlight her curves, but the clever fall of the fabric gives it a slinky feel. She looks amazing in the dress and he hesitates just briefly before turning to the coat hook next to him.

He then places hers on the hook before he takes off his coat and hangs it up as well. His scarf is placed on top of the coats and he turns to her, “Shall we?” and they both sit down.

Their server then approaches again, where was he when they got to the table? Wilson thinks he might be a ninja server. He is a very average looking guy, average height, average build, average skin tone etc. 

The average in all ways server introduces himself, “Good evening, and welcome to Cloud. My name is Christopher and I will be your server tonight.”

Wilson smiles and addresses him, “Good evening.” And gives him a little nod. She seems a bit quiet as she just greets him with a simple, “Hello.” He catches her fiddling with a fork on the table and she then adjusts her hair, pulling a piece behind her left ear.

Christopher then continues with his introduction, “Tonight we several _prix fixe_ meals to choose from to meet a wide range of dietary needs; our options are as follows; vegan, vegetarian, seafood, poultry and a meat option. For the seafood, the main is local trout, the poultry is quail and our red meat is beef. Our vegan and vegetarian options feature beets and their versatility.” He looks at both of them before continuing. “Before, I ask for your order, I may I take your drink orders? We have two local microbrew beers on tap; a wheat beer and stout. For wine we have two locally produced, whites and two reds. Each one has a sweet or a dry option. Finally, we have four autumnal cocktails, that capture the season. Do you have further questions about each option?”

Christopher is holding his hands before him as he looks to her first and then to Wilson. 

She then with a slight bit of hesitation asks for more information from Christopher, “I’d like to make sure that my drink compliments dinner, - I’d be happy to go with what you and the chef would suggest.” 

He nods to her, “Very well.” He then turns to Wilson, “How about you sir?”

Wilson is tempted by an autumnal cocktail, it sounds interesting, but then again, he wouldn’t want something that tasted funny with dinner. “I will have a cocktail, but I think I’d also like to put my faith in trusting your suggestion for what would go best with dinner.”

Their server looks at both of them for a moment before he proceeds. “Since, you have both decided on a complimenting drink with your dinner, may I take your orders?”

Wilson nods as he says, “Certainly, I make sure to look at the menu earlier.” He then gestures to her and she replies, “Oh yes, I also pretty much decided in advance.”

Average of all averages Christopher then turns to her, “Miss, what would you like?” She smiles and fidgets before she replies to him, “I’ll have the quail menu please. Which wine would you suggest?” 

He tilts his head just slightly, “I would suggest our local Chardonnay, is that alright with you?”

She nods, “Whatever you select is fine with me. Thanks.”

It is now Wilson’s turn; he waits to be addressed before he places his order.

“I’ll have the vegetarian option, as far as the seasonal cocktail, I’m looking for something with maybe Whisky or Bourbon in it. If that’s an option, of course.” He can’t help but ruffle the back of his hair as he looks at the server, as though assuming a Whisky based cocktail is a rare item in this establishment.

As expected, Christopher replies with his cocktail choice, “As far as your dinner selection, I would suggest our Bourbon Bramble. It is a combination of Bourbon, crème de cassis, elderflower liqueur with a squeeze of lemon juice.”

It sounds pretty interesting and he does enjoy a good Bourbon from time to time, he nods before replying, “That sounds great. Thank you very much Christopher.”

With that he bows slightly to them, “I shall get to the bar right away for you drink orders and I will relay your orders to the kitchen. I will be back with your drinks before serving the starter for the both of you.” And with that he’s off, silently and cat-like to put through your requests.

Wilson takes a sip of his glass of water and smiles at her as she looks around them, examining the décor of the place.

“What do you think? Coming here was a suggestion from Cuddy, she enjoys this place.” Wilson places his left hand on the while he lets his right arm rest across his lap and he looks at her.

She fidgets in her seat before she decides to settle with her hands at the edge of the table. “Cuddy, she’s your boss correct? That we met a few weeks ago?” she seems to know this already but seems to be letting him lead the conversation from now.

He looks at her eyes, but he can’t help but notice her lipstick, he’ll have to make a comment about it soon . . .

“Yep, that was Cuddy whom you met a few weeks ago. When it comes to things like this, she is a good person for suggestions. She’s a boss who works her ass off, but I’d say she likes to enjoy a few of the finer things when possible.”

She fiddles now with the stem of the water glass and keeps twirling it as she replies, “I could see that. Her casual outfit for a Sunday lunch was quite polished.” She then leans in over the table towards him and he follows her towards the center of the table.

After glancing back and forth, she speaks, “So, is this a standard type of restaurant for doctors? I was surprised when I looked at the menu online earlier today. I don’t doubt that this will be delicious, I’m just more curious if you have some sort of expectation to do this sort of thing?”

Wilson’s brain tumbles around as he thinks of a reply to her question and also feels like he’s being questioned by House for a moment, but a little bit more politely.

“Errr, a standard type of place for doctors? I’m not sure if there is such a thing. I mean, I’m open to eating at all sorts of places.” Wilson then thinks where he’s going with this; he shrugs a bit before continuing, “I went with this place in part of Cuddy’s suggestion, and that it seemed to be a more intimate establishment. Which I think is a nice place for a fancy date.”

She blushes a little, “That’s, that’s kinda sweet. I’m glad that I at least was able to guess what to wear for this. I’m always so bad at these sorts of things.”

Wilson’s heart skips a beat, she’s not used to dates like this, and it is clear she’s touched. Time to lay on the charm. “If you were worried about looking out of place, you look perfect. I have to admit it was pleasantly surprised by your outfit.” He cocks and eyebrow at her and waits for her to take the bait.

“Surprised by my outfit? In what way?” She smiles as she places her right elbow on the table and props up her chin in her right hand with a smirk.

Wilson ruffles his hair and makes a bit of a sigh, “Where should I start? You are wearing some lovely boots, and I like the higher heel on them. Your dress is stunning, unusual and those tights are nice. But the highlight of your ensemble is your lipstick. I like it.” He stops there because he doesn’t want to say anything else yet, that should be saved for the bedroom so to speak.

She seems playful and relaxed as he first mentions her clothing items, but it is when he mentions the lipstick that she looks shocked. Almost that she didn’t believe that it would make that much of a difference. However, it does; it looks bloody hot and he’s already wants to kiss her . . . . He shakes his head, first dinner though.

* * *

You’ve been feeling nervous and fidgeting the entire time since you’ve gotten to your table. When Wilson went to take your coat, you think he liked what he was looking at, but it is always so hard to tell. Plus, he’s a natural charmer, so you know that he’ll be polite and compliment you, but you do think he means it. As usual his suit/shirt/tie combination is well coordinated, but just slightly unconventional. A black suit and pants, a white shirt with blue and orange thin vertical stripes and a very fun navy, light blue, and orange striped tie. His shoes are always clean and polished, plus they always match so you aren’t surprised at all. Overall, his outfit is flattering on him.

The server seems professional and you keep moving things on the table as you never know how to interact with waitstaff at fancier places. Thankfully, this place seems to go for less options, and hopefully this translates into quality. At least the turn of the century décor is cozy, and you appreciate the lack of TVs and distractions around. 

You are no wine expert, so you decide to let them make a match. When he described the main ingredients, you were almost going to pick the vegetarian option until at the end he said the dreaded word ‘beet’. As a staunch anti-beet person, you go with the quail. And it seems correct that a white would go well with it from your poor wine knowledge. 

You are a little surprised by Wilson’s selection of the vegetarian option, but at least he won’t have something that lingers like fish. His choice to have a seasonal cocktail is predictable, and you learn a little more about him, he likes the more manly, well American manly choice of Whiskey and Bourbon. 

You are able to relax more once your dull looking server has left. The hardest part is over, and you can finally ask Wilson the questions that have been bugging you since you saw the menu.

This place is classy, quiet and almost romantic, if not at least serious. This allows you to ask Wilson how he decided to come here. Not surprisingly, he mentions the Dean of Medicine, Doctor Cuddy his very powerful boss.

You reach out and twist the stem of your water glass as you reply that you’d see Cuddy suggesting some place like this. This then allows you to go deeper, but you don’t want to be too obvious. 

To get Wilson a little closer, you lean over the table and he comes to meet you in the middle and you look at those soft chocolate brown eyes. Which allows you to ask him if this is a ‘standard’ place for medical doctors to go. To soften it a little you add in that you don’t doubt the quality, but you are more wondering if this is a ‘type’ of place that he feels like he needs to take someone there.

Your question results in a flurry of quick changes to his face as you can almost feel the mental gymnastics he’s doing as he thinks of a reply, and you almost get a touch of how he looks at House when they are bantering back and forth . . . but it was only for a fleeting moment and he replies hesitantly at first.

“Errr, a standard type of place for doctors? I’m not sure if there is such a thing. I mean, I’m open to eating at all sorts of places.” His eyes flicker down to your mouth and with a little shrug his eyes return to yours as he continues, “I went with this place in part of Cuddy’s suggestion, and that it seemed to be a more intimate establishment. Which I think is a nice place for a fancy date.”

A blush begins to bloom on your cheeks, he thinks this is a fancy date?!?!

Your reply is honest and blunt, because you are awkward with those pesky emotions. “That’s - that’s kinda sweet. I’m glad that I at least was able to guess what to wear for this. I’m always so bad at these sorts of things.”

Wilson leans in a little more and he cocks his left eyebrow up as he smiles and speaks softly,

“If you were worried about looking out of place, you look perfect. I have to admit it was pleasantly surprised by your outfit.” 

You start to feel special as you want to know what it is about your appearance that he thinks you look perfect. You know that he doesn’t actually mean you are perfect since perfect is by nature impossible, but well, your brain gets the point, you dressed for the occasion.

You feel more confident as you flirt back, “Surprised by my outfit? In what way?” after speaking you put your chin in the palm of your right hand as you support yourself by your elbow on the table (good table manners be dammed).

Wilson may have a slight blush as he ruffles his hair and a small sigh escapes from his mouth, “Where should I start? You are wearing some lovely boots, and I like the higher heel on them. Your dress is stunning, unusual and those tights are nice. But the highlight of your ensemble is your lipstick. I like it.” 

He sweetly compliments you on your boots, you personally agree, and they were expensive enough, $330 Fluevogs made in Portugal; the dress makes you look refined but has an edge, you made the right call there; his comment on the tights is like the final bit. 

What throws you for a loop is the fact that he ends with a mention of your lipstick, he thinks it is the highlight and he likes it; that statement shocks you, you didn’t put that much effort into it and this is the part he likes the most, unless he is appreciating the fact that it was your equivalent of going extra.

You swallow and lean back to take a sip of your water as he leans back and smiles. The mention of the lipstick has stirred up more than thoughts of dinner, you watch him as he waits for you to reply.

“Thanks, I wanted to put more effort into my appearance when I realized this was a little more than dining at the Bamboo Garden.” And when you look at him, there is that slow burn starting to simmer . . . you’ve seen that look in his eyes before, but first, dinner; the sexual tension is becoming noticeable enough that maybe you can’t taste it yet, but you can smell it so to speak.

Thankfully, dull yet proper server Christopher has returned with your drinks. He skillfully places your wineglass down with minimal effort and movement, while he turns and places Wilson’s Bourbon Bramble down with a slight amount of condensation of the sides of the glass.

You both thank him as he holds his tray against his chest and a long cloth napkin is draped across his left forearm. He again bows his head slightly, “You are welcome. Is there anything else I can get you at the moment?” 

Both of you reply that you are fine. He then informs you that the starter warm salad will be out in a few minutes.

Wilson looks across the table to you and smiles. He picks up his cocktail in his left hand and you then lift your wine glass in your left hand as well. He winks as the he says “Cheers!” and you reply while your glasses make a bright ping[!]

With that you take a small sip of the Chardonnay, it is crisp with and dry on your tongue not too acidic or biting, it has a soft note of sweetness at the end. It is good, and you are glad you didn’t have to stress out about this. 

Wilson sniffs his cocktail for a second before he takes a drink. His eyes brighten and he seems pleased. “Fun! I wouldn’t have thought this would taste good, but it is great. Then again, people make drinks like this for a living, so they’d have to be good on principle.”

You don’t want to get tipsy too fast, so you make it a point to slowly drink your wine with a nice mix of your water. Wilson also seems to be pacing himself as the conversation finally settles into more normal things.

* * *

Things begin to settle in so to speak once they have their drinks and Wilson notices how she is much more relaxed. Yeah . . . she isn’t socially awkward in such situations like this, like a certain someone . . . but at least she’s less juvenile than House.

He finally is able to chat about normal things while they wait for the starter. “How was pub trivia last night? Meet any more co-workers?”

And as soon as the question is out of his mouth he watches are her face becomes stern and she sighs. 

“That bad?” he asks this as he reaches a hand across the table to gently touch hers. Her eyes look upset and disappointed.

“Yeah. Two guys spent the evening both hitting on me and also gatekeeping me in terms of – um – nerdly things I guess.” She seems to be trying to remain calm but there is an anger underneath.

He nods as his right thumbs gently caresses her left hand. Based on her body language he thinks he understands what she’s saying, but he asks for clarification. “When you mean gatekeeping, you are saying that they were telling you that you can’t enjoy something? If so, I’m going to guess that they were doing this based on your gender.” and he looks down at her face with a serious but firm grip on her hand.

She nods, “Yeah, they pretty much discredited my opinions on things while hitting on me at the same time.” With her right hand she ruffles her hair, making it a bit messier and then she continues, “I know it shouldn’t bother me. There are no rules for enjoying a TV show or comic or band and if someone enjoys something, who am I to tell them they shouldn’t. But that cocky attitude, ugh. I’m tired of dealing with it.”

Wilson then squeezes her hand to let her know he’s there. “Hey, no one likes having someone try to bully them or make them uncomfortable. The fact that they also hit on you while insulting you is terrible. I’m sorry.” And he looks into her eyes and she takes a deep breath before a hesitant smile forms on her lips.

“You’re right. Thanks.” And she then gives his hand a squeeze back and it hits him; they are having a **_moment_**. Wilson’s natural sense of reading people is going into overdrive and he just wants to give her a hug as soon as they are done with dinner.

Movement out of the corner of his eye distracts him as Christopher the average of all averages server has arrived with their starters. He deftly places down to plates of a warm quinoa salad simmered in a mushroom broth with various sautéed vegetables; Wilson’s plate as grilled beets while hers has thinly sliced hard boiled quail eggs in addition to the vegetables. There is a quick look of horror on her face which quickly vanishes. 

Their ninja server again checks in with him and it is after he’s gone that he turns to see her shoving all of her beets onto his plate!

“Wha-what are you doing?” Wilson is confused. 

Her brow is furrowed, “I am purging the evil beets from my salad!” 

Wilson turns his head as she then realizes he needs a little more context.

She then composes herself, “Ah, I really don’t like beets. I should. They are good for you, but no matter how many times I try them, I hate them. That’s why I didn’t get the vegetarian dinner, I just don’t like beets. Sooooo, if you don’t mind them, please accept my beets?” and she’s got these adorable eyes almost close to looking like she’s trying to look innocent but not quite hitting the mark.

Wilson then laughs as he puts his fork into the salad. “Fine fine, I’ll accept your extra beets.” He then points at her with his fork, “But bare this in mind, you will **_owe_** me for this favor.” And just subtly enough, he makes sure to just wet his lips with his tongue before he returns to his salad. 

Glancing from under his brow he sees how her breath hitches just a touch and she focuses on her salad. 

As they enjoy their salad, she picks up their conversation.

“Oh, I was curious, but too annoyed last night to follow up on it. What was that text about the genus _Solanum_ about? Some sort of bet?” She has finished her salad and placed the fork on the plate allowing her to put her chin back in her hand with an elbow on the table.

Wilson spends the next few minutes giving her the highlights of Poker Night. He could have just answered her question directly, but instead, he takes this chance to make the entire Poker Night events a story. It feels nice to be able to just talk about all of the little details of the evening and not have to worry about listening to her or bantering back with House. 

Feeling a bit warmer and becoming more animated in his story, Wilson removes his suit jacket and hangs it on the back of his chair. Obviously, he rolls up his sleeves and he feels much more comfortable with his free forearms. His wrists should not be oppressed by the tightness of sleeve cuffs unless necessary!

As he finally gets to the punchline, their entrees have arrived. Their server describes each dish in detail, but most of it floats away into the atmosphere. All he recalls is that she has slow-cooked quail with rosemary and garlic mashed potatoes topped with a light gravy; he has a hearty beet stew with freshly baked sourdough bread on the side. Their conversation then slips to soft comments on how things taste, and they slowly drain their glasses. As they both finish their dishes, both of their alcoholic drinks are now empty.

With his delicate and on point timing, Christopher is there to clear the table and check in with them again. Wilson is really starting to like this super average yet stealthy server, he’s thinking a decent tip may be in order. 

To accompany their desserts, Christopher suggests another drink, though Wilson is not sure if another alcoholic drink is what he wants. Thankfully, Christopher states that the kitchen prefers that diners match their dessert with an herbal tea.

Wilson is feeling warm and happy and he more than agrees to go with what complements it best, apparently a ginger tea, while hers is to be a mint tea.

She then asks him what his plans are for tomorrow than besides participating in the clinical trial and then heading back to Princeton-Plainsboro. It seems she has something in mind or is wondering about his schedule.

Wilson ruffles his hair as he replies, “I’m going to have House over at my place tomorrow for some take-out and trashy TV. I’ll be free on Saturday.”

She nods, “Thanks for letting me know, I was planning to talk to my best friend and do some shopping. Do you want me to call you afterwards or just wait until Saturday?”

Wilson feels floaty as though he must be dreaming . . . she isn’t even concerned that he’s hanging out with House tomorrow night. He pinches his thigh through his pants under the table. He feels the pain of his fingernails. He’s awake. And they haven’t even gotten to dessert yet. 

“I’ll call you Saturday. The Farmer’s Market is only indoors now, so it isn’t as exciting, and I’ll just pick up a few items before meeting up with you. How about a movie?”

She nods, “That sounds good. Now if you will excuse me, I need to use the bathroom before our dessert comes.” She then picks up her purse and heads off to the bathroom, and he just listens to the sound of her block heels as she walks off.

Finally, he’s able to notice people walking by on the sidewalk outside. It has cold enough that their breath is visible, and the various lights twinkle in the night air. 

* * *

Your dinner with Wilson has gone well. You almost feel giddy, but it might be due to the fact you haven’t been out to dinner with someone like this in a long time. There is a part of you that thinks this can’t be real, romantic fancy dinners aren’t something you find yourself in . . .

And there was that **_look_** from him when he told you that you will owe him for accepting your evil beets. You are 99% sure that he wet his lips with his tongue on purpose, but that would make Mr. I’m a Proper Doctor, Doctor James Wilson a bit more of a player than he has seemed to date. 

Before your dessert and its paired tea arrive, you excuse yourself to use the bathroom. This serves two purposes, you first are indeed going to urinate; you may have drank enough water to keep a good buzz, but that your nervousness beforehand resulted in drinking more water than you had planned. 

The second purpose is to text your best friend, you want to talk to him about Wilson and the bathroom is a nice time to send him a message. He won’t reply immediately, so it doesn’t matter, but best to do it before Wilson distracts you. 

Lastly, after going to the bathroom and washing your hands, and sending the text, you check your magical liquid lipstick. It has held up quite well during the dinner and it has not rubbed off on the glasses! **_Impressive_**. You just pull out the tube to touch up a spot here or there and then head back to the table.

It is only when you return to the table alone that you are able to casually catch glances of others in the restaurant. It is then that you notice more than one person checking you out. Could it be that you look attractive to other people? Is this what normal people do? It is a strange sensation feeling the gaze of others upon your body in a purely physical level of appreciation. It swirls about you tugging at your self doubts and makes you feel disconnected. 

As you approach the table you see Wilson turn his gaze to you as the distinct sound of your heels echo on the wood floor. It is then, that things come into focus; Wilson smiles at you as he cocks his head with this tiny emphasis. He knows that everyone else is looking at you and he’s proud that you are there with him. He looks more than pleased that you are his date.

And then it dawns on you – when you are in a positive relationship with someone, everyone around you picks up on it on some level. You can’t see your own facial expression, but you know you are smiling softly as he smiles back at you. Neither of you has said a word during this conversation, but it was simple enough everyone around got the message, that two of you are dating and that this is exclusive. 

As you sit down across the table from Wilson you smile and find that you like the fact that he’s proud that he’s there with you.

“Hey.” You smile as you address him, in your casual and natural fashion.

He pushes his napkin around a bit, “All freshened up as one would say?” 

You nod, “Yep, fancy bathroom too.” And you start to smirk as he playfully rolls his eyes.

“I’m ready for my dessert with its coordinated tea, but I think I’m more excited for later.” Wilson then nudges his foot to yours under the table. He keeps a straight face as he begins to play footsie with you. And here you were the juvenile one with the beets.

At least he isn’t too pushy with it and a polite “Ah-hem” catches both of your attention as your boring yet very competent server has returned with the desserts and tea. Wilson has a look of slight embarrassment on his face as he nods to stoic Christopher. 

Again, with delicate skill, he places two mugs down on the table. Both teas are steeping on their own little metal teapots and he pours each tea with a light flourish at the end. When he places your dessert down you catch a glimpse of a tattoo hidden on his wrist, it might be an Einsturzende Neubauten tat, but you aren’t sure. Is he secretly a fan of industrial? You are intrigued by your outwardly boring server.

Your dessert is a cheesecake with a cranberry syrup. The mint tea cuts through the rich creaminess of the cheesecake and softens the tartness of the cranberries.

Wilson has a crumble that combines apples, cinnamon and cloves. He also comments that the ginger tea matches with it, though unusual. 

You feel content as you finish your dessert and Wilson has a mischievous look in his eyes that he’s trying to hide under those bushy eyebrows.

Christopher then brings the check and he smiles tell you that it is no rush. Wilson confidently takes it and pulls out his wallet to place his credit card in the billfold. He then tells you to tell the server to pick it up if he isn’t back from the bathroom. And with that he excuses himself.

You finally have a chance to glance out the window. Normally, when you are seated at a window table you spend much of your time watching people pass by and comment on them and observe. But tonight, you really only noticed Wilson. What does this mean?

Your thoughts are interrupted by the return of Christopher. He asks if the bill is ready to be settled and you gesture that it is good to go. It is then that he reaches for it you see more of his tattoo. 

  
“I knew it.” You speak more excitedly than you expected and he stops to look at you quizzically.

“You knew what?” He asks as he holds the billfold in front of his chest.

“You like Einsturzende Neubauten. A fan of industrial?” You are keen to 'music nerd out' with him for a moment.

He smiles, “Ah yes, they are one of my favorite bands. Along with Skinny Puppy.”

You nod towards him, “Puppy is awesome.” 

He also smiles breaking his calm demeanor, and pivots to walk off to run the card when he stops for a second. “What’s is like being on a date with a normie?”

His question catches you off guard for a second and you find your reply, “It is alright. This is new for me; and I’m not sure if he’s really a normie. The man swing dances!”

Christopher smiles “Yeah, normies don’t swing dance in this day and age. I suspect someone is secretly a theatre geek.” And with that he walks away to run the card.

Wilson returns to the table passing your server on the way. “See he’s got the bill. I’m definitely making sure he gets a good tip, his service was excellent.” Wilson says this quietly and gestures with his right for emphasis.

You nod, “Yeah, I liked the fact that he really wasn’t too pushy and he let us just enjoy ourselves.” His tattoo then reminds you of the show flyer you had seen earlier. “Oh yeah, this is a bit random, but on my way over here I saw a flyer for upcoming concerts. Purity Ring is playing Philly at the end of the month. We should go!”

Wilson nods along, until he then jerks his back with a “What? You want to go out to see them play live?”

You are too excited to stop now, “Yeah, I’ll look up the tickets, if we are lucky it will be on a weekend since it is a Philly show. Do you think it is better to try to do the drive back after the show or stay at hotel for the night?”

Wilson looks a bit overwhelmed. “I think it is best, I leave you in charge of this, since I think that last time I went to a show was in the late 90s and it was only because House made me go to this grungy bar in a sketchy part of Baltimore to see some important blues musician.”

The bill is now back at the table and Wilson thanks Christopher for the lovely evening. 

You assure Wilson that you will definitely make sure it is a less questionable concernt experience than what he had with House. 

You finally check your phone to see the time, 7:47. Wow, it has been around an hour and a half. It really didn’t seem like that and you really feel flatted about the romantic evening. Wilson first fixes his sleeves and puts on his jacket. He then reaches over to pull down his scarf, looping it around his neck and then putting his winter overcoat on. 

“Come here.” He nudges his head slightly for you to approach, and opens your coat for you, you awkwardly pull your scarf out of the sleeve first as he patiently waits for you to put it around your neck. With two open sleeves he then helps you into your coat and sneaks a kiss on the cheek from behind. You feel the blush immediately. 

“Thank you kind sir.” You smile as you thank him and with that, he motions for you to head towards the exit.

In the foyer, both of you then button up your coats and prepare to walk back to your place this chilly night. You watch him as he pulls his scarf up to cover his ears, as it appears that he lacks a hat. He didn’t do that for his hair now did he?

Hat, mittens, scarf and coat ready, you indicate that you are good to go. Just as you exit the doors and step out onto the sidewalk, a voice catches your attention. 

“Hey Jim! Jim Wilson.” And both of your turn to see a man walking towards Cloud. It is the loud guy from the Mexican a few weeks ago. This makes sense, if Wilson has an early meeting for the clinical trials, so the other reviewers, including Mr. overly friendly from New York.

* * *

Wilson is playing everything cool this evening, and he is already thinking of his possible game plan of sexual pleasures this evening. He helps her with her coat and they are heading back to her place, albeit with a quick stop by his car to pick up clothing and his overnight bag.

All of a sudden just as they’ve exited Cloud at a nice and relatively early time, and a man’s voice catches his attention, a familiar voice. He turns to look in the direction of the man at the same time that she does. 

Argh, it is the overly obnoxious Matt Jones from Mt. Sinai. Wilson immediately turns on his fake smile as he moves both hands independently. His left-hand lands on her left shoulder pulling her slightly closer to him and he leans past her with his right side to shake Matt’s hand.

“Ah Jones, I see you are already in town this evening. In town to avoid the commute tomorrow morning?” He gives Jones hand enough of a squeeze that he lets go of Wilson’s hand fairly fast.

Jones smiles and his eyes dart briefly to his girlfriend before back to him. “You guessed correctly Wilson. Your sense of intuition is always spot on. I’m about to head in for an 8pm dinner here at Cloud with Eva. She suggested this place as she’s friends with the owner.”

Eva again? Could it be that Oncology’s analytical queen, Doctor Eva Forrester, be interested in the known playboy Jones. Jones dated half of their class during their specialization training and he made it clear it was the same from undergrad all through medical school. Wilson may have a bit of a reputation at PPTH, but he is but a pebble in the presence of Jones boulder sized personal life (if you could call it that). Wilson is intrigued just briefly, but she moves nervously against him.

Ack! Jones has already shifted attention to her. “Nice to meet you again. I think it is safe to assume that you were also here at Cloud with Wilson.”

She politely replies, “Yes, we just finished up. It was lovely, but it is a weeknight so we should be going.”

Jones makes a dramatic face, “Oh that’s too bad, we could have had a drink with you guys before dinner.” 

She covers a scoffing sound by clearing her throat and Wilson is getting agitated that he’s flirting with her. He’s not an overly jealous person, but he at least has the decency to not hit on someone in front of the person she is with. Jeez.

“Yeah, we really need to be going. It was nice to see you Jones. I’ll see you tomorrow morning.” With that he turns around and she fluidly moves with him and allows him to wrap his arm around her back.

“Well, have a nice one then Wilson! Nice to see you again Miss!”

Once they are out of earshot, Wilson makes a garbled noise. “I can’t believe we ran into Jones; that man is so annoying.”

“I agree 100%, he’s just a flirt.” She loops her left arm in his right as they quickly their way back to her apartment.

Right as they pass his car, he tells her to go ahead, he needs to grab his suit for tomorrow and overnight back as his breath lingers in the air before him catching the streetlights.

She just leans against his car while he pulls things out and wraps herself around his right arm, letting him know that she’s okay and willing to wait for him.

He feels special and they then enter her building. Of course, as soon as the key is in the door, Keith is excitedly meowing loudly through the door.

His arms are full so he’s unable to pet Keith, but he at least greets him by name. As they remove their coats, she has a smirk, “I need to brush and feed Keith but I’m guessing I owe you for those beets earlier today.”

He leans and hold her face with his left hand. “You can bet I’m collecting on that favor.” Making it clear for her, he kisses her with more than enough emotion that she’ll have an idea of what is going to happen.

He lets her go and her eyes are glassy and she’s already blushing, and her dark red lips seem brighter in the normal light of her apartment. 

Wordlessly, they separate as he puts his overnight bag in the bathroom and hangs his suit up for tomorrow in her bedroom on the back of her door. After some cat grooming and kibble placement, she turns to him in her living room where he leans against a window looking out at the streets. He's already removed his jacket and rolled his shirt sleeves up as his hands rest in his pockets.

Her hands reach out to his waist and he turns to face her; his hands settle on her hips and he feels the smooth texture of her dress and he tilts down to kiss her as he licks her lips. Only he can feel the satisfaction of the hum that escapes from her throat. This is going to be a good night he thinks to himself as she pulls herself tight to him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And we've reached the end of yet another chapter. Update, 7 August, I have completed the explicit side chapter. It can be found under 'carefully calibrating - chapter 3'. Enjoy if you want to read about sexy Wilson in bed.
> 
> I apologize that this is such a long chapter, but I wanted to show the days before the date as well as capture the comfort of the date and how people read and communicate with each other in ways beside just their words.
> 
> Anyone else hate beets as much as I do? I'm a terrible Slav, I should like them but not matter how many times I try to eat beets as an adult, I'm just grossed out by them.
> 
> And Wilson; he gives major normie vibes, but anyone who is friends with House is can't possibly be a total normie.


	13. floating in the afterglow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wilson has his first day of training for the pharmaceutical trial and he gets up to some juvenile antics with House. All is well that ends will with trashy TV and take-out at Wilson's condo. 
> 
> Our reader chases the lingering feeling that her relationship is getting serious and leading into territory that is new and intimidating, both having outsider's comments and her trusted console of her best friend thousands of miles away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize at my generalizations as I'm making some educated guesses about how outside/third party reviewers would deal with industry. I do know that contractors are hired to review things and industry does require legal paperwork to maintain confidentiality. 
> 
> So, I'll keep it vague, but try to highlight that Wilson is doing something that is new and allows him to continue to grow and advance his own career, something I wished would have happened in the TV show. He does change in his personal life and relationships over the 8 seasons, but Chase, Foreman, and Cameron have more definitive character development than Wilson or Cuddy got. Again, minor critique.

Wilson slowly finds himself awake. It is still dark and he’s definitely up before his alarm has gone off. He has rolled onto his right side during his sleep and he can see her asleep as her body gently moves up and down to her breath, her back to him. As awareness fills his body, he makes note of the noticeable feline presence along his legs between the both of them and keeps quite still as to not wake Keith. He may be a friendly cat, but he has a sixth sense for knowing when someone is awake and therefore, able to feed him breakfast.

So, Wilson lies there keeping his eyes half open and he keeps a steady and slow rate of breathing. He is tempted to snuggle up to her, she’s definitely not opposed to early morning sex, but then he remembers that it is a weekday and he needs to not be late for his clinical trial reviewer meeting. At least he can smile to himself as the recalls the sex from last night. God it was hot, and they even had a conversation about what they wanted to try in the future. This isn’t like his previous relationships of either meeting his partner’s needs nor bending to their will. . . . this – this is new. 

Unfortunately, his mind has still begun to slip into the gutter, and he can feel himself getting hard . . . aarrrggghhhh he thinks to himself as he figures it would be best to just get in the shower early. So, with as much stealth as possible, he leans over to turn off his alarm, and he gets out of bed quickly enough that Keith only notices him as he out the bedroom door. He walks into the kitchen to put kibble in the food dish, leaving Keith with a look of shock communicated by his ears and tail. Wilson then enters the bathroom, turns on the shower and alleviates his early morning desires, before starting his standard routine. He is able to get dressed and waits for her to get up before he blow dries his hair – he’ll never live down the whining he heard from House when he crashed on his couch. Even though, she gets up much earlier than House does . . .

He towel dries his hair keeping it damp and he ties his grey and salmon tie with a small diamond pattern over his salmon and cream shirt. Wilson then stops to contemplate his appearance in the small mirror, he does look more like himself when he wears striped or more colorful shirts. Just then the door opens, and she steps in half awake and they both startle with a yelp.

“Oh shit! Sorry!” she’s caught off guard and he finds himself apologizing at the same time “I should have opened the door once I was dressed!”

With that out of the way, he is able to exit and let her use the bathroom. Wilson walks to the kitchen and puts on the kettle so that he can make some coffee, the meeting likely will have breakfast foods, likely more than enough to feed a small army of oncologists. 

After a flush of the toilet, she meanders into the kitchen and starts to look at Keith’s food dish but sees a few remaining bits of kibble. 

“Oh, I fed Keith so he wouldn’t wake you up. ¼ cup as you requested.” Wilson smiles as she turns to him with a look of surprise mixed with . . . a realization – of – something . . . .

She rubs her left hand in her hair and smiles faintly to herself, before she turns to look at him as he’s scooping coffee into the French Press. “Thanks for feeding Keith. That was some quick thinking on your part.” She then opens the fridge to pull out some milk and grabs for a box of cold cereal.

It is Wilson’s turn to feel a bit awkward as he ruffles the back of his neck and hair with his right hand. “It wasn’t a big deal. Keith is a very attentive cat. I figured you’d like to sleep a few minutes longer.” He smiles sweetly and honestly and realizes that he’s got a bit of a blush going on, so he turns to check the kettle as the water starts to boil.

“You going to eat anything?” She asks him this as she gestures to put the milk and cereal back. 

“Oh, no, I’m good. I’ll be fed some breakfast as a part of the clinical trial meetings. I’m just going to have some coffee.” He seems oddly touched that she’s double checking with him about breakfast. 

After pouring himself a cup of coffee, he leaves it to cool on the table while she eats her cereal and sips at her still very hot cup of coffee. This gives him time to use the bathroom to dry his hair, style it and begin his small-scale colonization of a small corner of her bathroom. To be equal to her, he snaps a few pictures of her personal care products with his phone and makes note to purchase duplicates for her use at his place. It is only polite to give her similar space use and he even has another bathroom. He places the hair product, facial moisturizer, toothpaste in corner of one of her drawers (Which is oddly quite empty. What sort of woman owns so few personal care products that there is free space? Answer, she does.) and puts his toothbrush in the holder opposite of hers. 

With only his teeth to be brushed, he collects all of his clothing and other items into his bag and puts yesterday’s suit in the travel bag for the current one he’s wearing. With everything almost ready to go, he glances at the clock, 7:20. Just enough time to sit down and have his now perfect temperature coffee, and he adds a splash of milk to it and resists his urge to put it elsewhere in the fridge.

They sit there in a few moments of calm silence as they drink their coffee, and it feels nice. She breaks the silence by rinsing off her dirty dishes and then stacking them next to the sink. “Okay, I’ve got to get dressed and whatnot. I assume you are going to have to shove off soon?”

Wilson then looks at her with a gentle smile, “Yeah, I should be out the door by about 7:30, I hate to show up on time or even late.” 

She looks at him again with that unusual expression of realization. “Well, when you are ready, you can just go on ahead, don’t worry about locking the door behind you.” and with that she heads off to her bedroom to get dressed.

A whisp of distance follows her and he feels a little hurt that she wouldn’t want to see him off . . . . then again when he’s with House the two of them could like communicate a good-bye/have a nice day with a single word or grunt. Maybe he should treat her like House? But that doesn’t seem right with his own gut. He shakes his head as he finishes the coffee and walks into the bathroom to brush his teeth, making sure to boldly leave the toothbrush in the holder after he’s done using it.

He then heads out to her living room and begins to put on his scarf, coat and shoes and almost puts his hand on the door to leave when he sees Keith looking at him. Keith’s expression causes him to pause and he walks quickly towards her bedroom as she stares at her closet almost dressed sans shirt.

Going completely on his instincts, he walks up to her as she turns to him surprised, “Hey. Have a good day. I’ll call you tomorrow by noon.” And with that he leans in to kiss her on the lips and his left hand reaches out to hold her face.

She looks completely surprised and caught off guard, not even blushing, just shocked and speechless. As he pulls back, she finally is able to speak, “Ah, sure. Um, drive safely and you too.” She then looks embarrassed, “I mean you have a good day too.”

And with that, Wilson has turned around and is on his way out to his car parked on the street below. As he crosses the street to his parked car a smile slowly spreads across his face and he thinks to himself, **_Oh my fucking God, she’s so adorable_**. Only after he thinks that he realizes that he may be smitten with her, but not in a way to help her _per se,_ but that he may like her as someone to just be himself with. Like when he’s alone with House.

To focus himself, he turns up the volume a bit louder than normal on the radio and he listens to Morning Edition with a bit more attention than normal as he makes his way to the visitor’s lot and parks his car with enough time to spare and check in for orientation and manage to have his pick from the mountain of pastries, a banana (he’s got to at least try to be healthy) and an orange juice.

Orientation has assigned the panelists for this morning session by alphabetical order and he settles into his seat towards the back between a Dr. Vine and Dr. Xu. He reads over the agenda for the day, it includes the non-disclosure agreements he may have to sign depending on what aspect of the trial he’s reviewing, the forms that he’ll need to complete each time he’s here for a review session and how they will be assigned to smaller teams to generate final reports.

After flipping through the paperwork, he settles into place and fiddles with his pen in his hand. About ten minutes after the hour, the company rep begins the morning’s agenda and he listens with great interest, taking detailed notes about this new and exciting process.

* * *

You wake up to the sound of your alarm, indicating that you were out cold. As you reach out to turn off the alarm you notice that your bed seems rather empty; you turn to see the sheets and blankets carefully arranged to your left where Wilson was, and you notice a Keith shaped void near your feet on the bed.

Half-awake, you shuffle to the bathroom to find Wilson at the mirror, likely just having finished doing something to his hair and the two of you jump back startled. You begin to apologize as his own overlaps yours in a sleepy haze to your brain. 

He then leaves the bathroom to you as you use the toilet and head to the bathroom. Going on autopilot and you stare at Keith’s dish which has a few pieces of kibble left. It is then Wilson catches your attention scooping coffee into the French Press that he informs you that he already fed Keith so you could sleep in a bit later. 

He’s just so – so sweet. Your brain begins to catch glimpses of him outside the context of the early stages of a relationship you think. Is this what a partnership is based on?

Not sure what you are thinking half-awake you rub your hair with your left hand and you look at Wilson as he adds another scoop of ground coffee to the French Press. You thank him, stating that he thought things through very quickly. You then open the refrigerator to pull out the milk and reach for a box of cereal.

As you glance back towards him, you catch a blush spreading across his face and he uses the excuse of the kettle to turn away.

You smile to yourself and your cereal as you think, **_He’s just so – so sweet_**.

For the second time, ‘sweetness’ tickles your mind.

After he pours the boiling water into the French Press you ask him if he wants any breakfast by gesturing to the milk and cereal before you put it away. 

He replies that he’ll be fine as the meeting for the clinical trial will have food and he’s tilted his head to the side just so slightly; he seems touched you made sure he was okay. And with that he pours his cup of coffee which he leaves to cool on the table while he heads back to the bathroom to complete his grooming routine as the sound of his high-tech hairdryer fills the morning quiet.

You take hesitant sips of your steaming hot coffee and listen to the sound of him as he collects his clothing and items from the bathroom before he sits down across from you at the table and both of you drink your coffee in a comfortable silence for a few minutes, and you enjoy his company as you come to life by the power of coffee and a little molecule known as caffeine. 

Realizing you are now awake enough to start moving you wash off your dishes, you turn to Wilson, “Okay, I’ve got to get dressed and whatnot. I assume you are going to have to shove off soon?”

He smiles at you softly and he replies that he needs to leave by 7:30 because he hates being on time or late. 

Your eyes hang on him as you wonder where things are going. This leads you to opt for a safe reply. You’ll just tell him to leave when he’s ready, he doesn’t need to wait for your or anything special like that. And that is pretty much what you tell him as you head off to your bedroom to get dressed.

After checking the forecast for the day, partially cloudy, high of 45, low of 38, decide on pants. You put on some grey and blue striped socks, a pair of dark blue jeans over grey underwear and a pale blue bra. Deciding on a shirt is a little bit harder; how dressy or casual do you want to go? So, you find yourself staring into your closet as you try to decide on a black v-neck t-shirt or a blue and black plaid flannel shirt.

All of a sudden you hear the sound of footsteps as Wilson walks up to you wearing his coat ready to head outside. You are surprised to see him as he speaks with a quiet but firm determination, “Hey. Have a good day. I’ll call you tomorrow by noon.” 

With that he reaches out with his left hand as he leans in to kiss you on the lips.

Your brain comes to a grinding halt as you have been kissed speechless. Wilson then releases you as your brain re-boots and you struggle to reply with a weak reply of, “Ah, sure. Um, drive safely and you too.”

Only as the words leave do you realize how disjointed your reply was, and you hide your embarrassment by following up by telling him that you meant for him to have a good day as well. Gooooood, so epically awkward! How old are you again?

Wilson seems to take your reply in stride as he confidently turns on his heals to leave. You hear the sound of the door shut and you turn back to your closet. 

Feeling like you are almost dizzy, you choose neither of the shirts you were thinking of before Wilson short circuited your brain. Instead, you pull out your old Library Voices t-shirt, a dark olive green shirt which in bold sans serif font printed in white ink declares that ‘Reluctant Readers Make Reluctant Lovers’ and you’ll throw a black jacket over it.

Shirt in hand, you go through your simple morning routine of brushing your teeth, washing your face, moisturizing, deodorant, perfume all before you put on the shirt. Feeling audacious, you pull out the tube of dark red liquid lipstick from your sparsely populated make-up drawer. Turning it in your right hand you think about if you should wear it to work? This isn’t something you would normally consider but just the thought of Wilson being so into it makes you go for it. 

With a deep breath to steady your left hand you as you apply it. It is a bold look but why not? As you look at your reflection in the mirror, you smile to yourself, it is going to be a good day.

Checking the clock, it is around 7:45 and you think about how you want to wrap up the greenhouse work this morning starting around 9. Grabbing the jacket, you throw on your wool peacoat on over it, calf high boots and a scarf with your hat and mittens next to the door. Your work bag is already packed and you turn to say good-bye to Keith who sits properly on the chair, front paws tucked under his chest as he looks at you through his half open contented-cat eyes.

Feeling good, you put on Love & Rockets’ album ‘Earth, Sun, Moon’ as you drive into work. Traffic is lighter than usual as the sun peaks through the clouds intermittently. The cooler temperature hits you as you shut the car door and you anticipate you’ll need to wear the hat and mittens when you leave work later today.

The morning flies by, you finish your planting of putative mutant seeds for the screen with the greenhouse staff and horticultural assistants. You feel great and you are feeling the aftereffects of last night’s date and subsequent sex. You only briefly swing by the office to pick up your wallet and phone as you head down to the café in the lobby to get some lunch and reply to your best friend. After getting the soup and sandwich combo of cream of broccoli and eggplant parmesan on wheat, you settle into a small table to text your best friend.

While you were in the greenhouse this morning, he replied to your bathroom text from the dinner last night. He’s free after 8pm Central, so you can talk to him after 9pm local time. You excitedly reply that you will see him on Skype then and you turn your attention to figuring out tickets to Purity Ring. 

The tour covers the East Coast and Great Lakes and they will be in Philly, on the last Friday of the month! Sweet, you don’t have to worry about going to work the next day, this will be perfect. You will unfortunately have to pay online ticket fees, but at least they used Ticketfly instead of the dreaded Ticketmaster. . . . Within a matter of minutes, you have two tickets to see Purity Ring at the Electric Factory in Philly and you are stoked. Now, you just need to figure out if it is better to spend the night in Philly compared to making an exhausting drive back.

Your train of thought is interrupted by a voice, “-llo. Hello there.” And you look up to see the annoyingly flirty oncologist from New York, that Matt Jones guy. He’s wearing a navy suit with a white dress shirt and red tie and he smiles at you in an overly friendly manner that makes you almost cringe on the inside.

Taking a sip of your coffee, you finally reply, “Yeah. Hi.” You don’t make much of an effort to cover your annoyance. He’s got a tray with his lunch and a bottle of sparkling water. You are judging him hardcore; you are a seltzer/sparking water cheapskate, only buying cases of it in cans and not something you’d ever pay the mark-up for in the café here at work.

He smiles at you again with dazzling white teeth (oh those are definitely artificially whitened), “Do you mind if I join you?” he gestures to the bustling café space and very few open spots among the tables.

You shrug and figure you can suffer though a few minutes of small talk before you excuse yourself with the escape that you have a meeting after lunch. He’s already placed his tray down across from you as he pulls out the chair.

“Thanks for letting me sit here. The reviewer teams are currently split up between paperwork and lunch.” He nods his head to you as he smiles before he opens his sandwich from the wax paper wrapping.

Trapped, you politely nod to him as you finish off the last bite of your sandwich and you sip your coffee. You know you aren’t going to escape him with no conversation.

As he twists the cap off of his bottle of water, he continues speaking to you. “Any plans for later today?” and he daintily drinks his water and his eyes communicate an expectant reply to his question.

“Not really, just some shopping, you know errands and such after work.” You fidget slightly as you aren’t sure where he’s going with this.

He cocks his head in a thoughtful fashion, “Nothing special planned for this evening? Wilson seems to be in a stellar mood. I’m assuming it is related to you? Unless, you aren’t dating him?”

His final comment takes you by surprise. Why would dating someone imply having to hang out all the time? And at this point, there is no reason to deny that you aren’t dating him. You’ve been out in public with Wilson, his co-workers have seen you and his best friend attempted to prank you (more than once). Hoping that you appear calm and unimpacted by his statements, you take another sip of coffee giving you a chance to collect your thoughts.

“We just have other plans for this evening; people don’t need to spend all of their free time with the person they’re dating. That’s just unhealthy.” This gives you a chance to finish your cup of coffee and you begin to tidy up your things placing them on you tray.

The obnoxious Doctor Jones seems surprised by your reply, he glances down before he seems to compose himself. “Interesting, I’ve known Wilson for years; and here, I thought I had him figured out. Perhaps, I’ve mis-judged him.” He takes a modest bite from his sandwich and takes the time to use his napkin to dab his mouth. 

Realizing you are done with this conversation you never wanted to engage with in the first place, you stand up with your tray and put your wallet and phone into your pockets. “Well, I have a meeting just after lunch. Enjoy your lunch.” And with that, you are moving away from the table preventing him from chatting you up further.

“Have a nice day.” You hear this as he clearly is unbothered by your departure. Walking as quickly as possible you return your tray and head up to your office. Most people are still out for lunch and it gives you a moment of quiet to reset yourself as you put on your headphones and dive into paperwork for a project that is starting next week. Just wanting to keep yourself moving, you tune into CIUT as the format for Friday afternoons is varied enough to keep you interested, but not distracted.

The rest of the day leaves you a touch agitated but as you distract yourself with work and when things wrap up, you are able to leave feeling accomplished. On the way home, you swing by the used CD store you had passed yesterday and flip through the racks, not looking for anything in particular. Nothing really catches your eye, but that is part of the appeal, waiting for something to jump out and tell you to purchase it . . . and then you find The Unicorns album ‘Who will cut our own hair when we’re gone?’ which has the amazing track ‘I was born (a unicorn)’ and you find a smile growing on your face, your best friend would always joke about the band and he had a pretty good rendition while holding a P1000 pipettor while singing the line ‘I was born – a unicorn’ in the lab. As you flip the CD over, the price tag says $5.99, a bargain indeed. Having completed part of your mission, you head to the cash register and check out, with a small square of happiness wrapped in an unlabeled small brown paper bag.

Next up, you head to the Princeton Record Exchange and let yourself get lost between the stacks and rows of CDs as you slowly browse, eventually settling on five of the new and recommended releases (as determined by staff members of Allie, Brian and Jay). Sometimes you like to just let someone else recommend albums and you just purchase them without even knowing about the album or artist.

And with your music quest complete for the day, you head home to feed a hungry Keith who is upset you are home after 6pm. Once, he’s fed, he pretends as though nothing happened and you make a light supper and put on the most recent Sufjan Steven’s release and are curious to see how he’s changed with this release (though “Come on and feel the Illinoise” will always be your fav from his vast catalogue).

You putter around putting a load of laundry in the wash and brainlessly watch TV until it is time to Skype with your best friend thousands of miles away.

* * *

The morning progresses at a decent pace; there is a presentation from the lead scientists describing the drug mechanism and their experimental design and set-up. His purpose as a reviewer is to look at the raw data and with a small team come up with an independent interpretation of their results.

They then break up into smaller groups to go over the review process; due to the sensitive nature of the data, they can only review it on site and using the computers provided by the company. Paper notes are allowed, but they must be handed over to staff to be kept at the location. Wilson realizes that if House asks him any details about the trials, he’s going to be disappointed since he’ll be signing the non-disclosure agreement in the next meeting of the morning. 

Like clockwork, the staff lead him to the next thing, signing all of the final paperwork that he’ll not comment on the study until the review is over and the company decides to move forward with the drug or to abandon it and not bring it to market. His pinky finger picks up an ink smudge from the number of times he has to sign or initial a paper here or there. Having sold a small part of his soul to the corporate world (well that is how House will see it when he tells him about it later today) he’s off to get a photo for an ID card to access the building. He’s to be onsite over the next two months for the review meetings, once every other week on a team that meets on Friday mornings.

He effortlessly smiles for his photo and the young woman, looking just out of undergrad, and she remarks on his beautiful smile and saves it to the computer. She’s totally his type, friendly, looks approachable, cute, yet he seems surprised as she clearly flirts with him and it is then he realizes she’s twenty years younger than him. He ruffles his hair and thanks her as she directs him to go down the hall to pick up the printed card in about ten minutes and to do exit paperwork with HR and pick up a parking permit until the end of the calendar year.

It is as he smiles at the desk attendant, that his stomach rumbles distracting him for a moment. Glancing at his watch, he sees that it is 12:50 and he needs to be on his way to PPTH for Clinic duty at 2:30 until 5. He’ll also need to sort out his final schedule with Susan until January. Not wanting to waste any more time, he quickly puts on his coat and scarf in the hallway, puts his ID and permit into his briefcase and asks the desk attendant the fastest way to exit. The desk staff are able to point him to an alternate exit and he thanks them moving with haste to get to his car and back to PPTH with time for lunch.

As he passes the restroom, he hesitates and then decides to enter so that when he arrives at work, he’ll be able to go straight to Susan and then the cafeteria. While washing his hands, Matt Jones enters and he immediately greets Wilson with a hearty “Hey Jim, finished up with the paperwork and heading to lunch?” 

Wilson glances over his shoulder before he makes sure to wash his hands for twenty seconds with soap and water. His reply is curt, “I’m on my way back to Princeton-Plainsboro. No time for lunch here.” 

Jones seems unnaturally relaxed it is clear his schedule is clear for the entire day and his hospital isn’t worried about meeting Clinic hours or covering staffing holes. “That Dean, Cuddy, has she got you on a tight schedule?” Jones has an undertone that indicates that Wilson is working for an inflexible boss, and it rubs him the wrong way.

Wilson’s irritation is taken out on the paper towel dispenser with a few rather forceful pulls on the paper to dry off his hands as he looks at Jones. “PPTH is a teaching hospital, an organization that is underpinned by service from medical students to Department Heads to the surrounding community. Doctor Lisa Cuddy is an excellent administrator, the place has grown under her leadership.” With that he picks up his briefcase and leaves Jones in the restroom as he hustles off to his car.

The cool fall air calms him as he heads to his car in the visitor’s lot and he tosses his well-traveled briefcase on the passenger seat. NPR plays in the background as he makes his way to PPTH with minimal stress and light traffic. After parking in the garage, he swings by Susan’s desk in Oncology and he drops off the copy of his schedule for the clinical trial review sessions. He smiles to her as he asks how her day is going. Susan seems relaxed and she replies she has no complaints and that scheduling is sorted out with the addition of their newest member to the rotation of doctors. 

He nods and then adds that he likes the combination of Smith and Jones and that Liu will be able to rest easy when she takes her mat-leave. It is then that he hands over his schedule for the trials, he makes sure to look a touch meek as his clinical trials will mess with every other Friday morning Clinic duty. 

Susan quickly glances at the paper as she reads it over. “No worries Doctor Wilson, I already slotted Doctor Jones into Friday mornings and I’ll move you into the afternoon slot for Fridays that Liu normally covers.” 

Wilson smiles honestly towards her as he sighs in relief, “Thanks so much Susan, I know the earlier paperwork had indicated I’d be out on Mondays. Speaking of Clinic hours, I have those in about an hour so I’m off to grab a late lunch.” He secretly thanks himself for all the past scones as well as other baked goods of tribute and the choice of hiring Doctor Martha Jones who Susan really likes.

Susan seems pleased with her foresight, “You’re welcome Doctor Wilson. Have a good afternoon.” And she turns to adding his paperwork into her neatly arranged piles and modifying her schedule for the department.

With that, he’s to his office where he drops off his briefcase on his chair, hangs up his coat and scarf and puts on his clean white labcoat and heads down to the cafeteria. The lunch rush has ended and he’s able to get a Ruben with fries as he finally relaxes as he’s able to refuel himself with food. Despite the rush to get back, he feels good and by time he’s done, he can’t help but hum to himself as he puts his tray and trash away and he heads to the Clinic to report for duty.

House is also performing his hours (Cuddy must have wrestled him into it (or bribed him with something) and he seems fairly chill for House in the Clinic. 

“House.” Wilson’s statement of this single word gets him a soft smile and nod from his best friend as he returns a Clinic file to the desk and picks up his next one. “Wilson. Bamboo Garden tonight.” 

House then looks at his file “Schnipke! Exam room 2.” And he waits for a moment before a young woman stands up and follows House into the room. 

Wilson then glances at his own file and focuses on his job for the next two and a half hours. “Ortiz, Exam room 1 please.” And his next patient gets up and he begins his afternoon of sniffles, allergies, rashes, and the occasional gross medical inconvenience.

At 5:05pm, Wilson signs out at the front desk as the Clinic has closed for the week. He chats with Brenda as she logs all the paperwork and begins to shut down or log out of the computer stations. “House already check out?” he asks knowing damn well House has peeled off as soon as possible. 

“Yep, though, he logged out at 4:57pm, a new record for him.” Brenda seems pleased by this. “Any plans for the weekend Doctor Wilson?” she takes his last file of the day from him as she inquires.

Wilson puts his pen into his pocket protector as he looks at Brenda, “Oh, just the usual, take out and trashy TV with House tonight. Laid back hanging out on the weekend I guess.” He heads to the doors as Brenda follows him to head to the locker room.

“Ah, so the rumors are true. You are seeing someone. Enjoy ‘hanging out’ with her.” She exits the door as Wilson holds it open for her to pass through. He’s truly surprised at the speed this rumor, well truth, has spread throughout PPTH, and he tilts his head before following Brenda out the door into the main foyer.

“Ah yes, I guess I can’t deny it anymore. What about you? Any exciting plans?” No immediate things to do, Wilson stops with Brenda to continue their conversation.

Brenda sighs, “If you consider judging for a high school speech and debate competition exciting, then yes. Though, I’m not keen on getting up at 6am on a Saturday to hang out in a high school for a few hours.”

Wilson nods, “Wow, so your oldest is in high school this year? Where does the time go?” he has one of those brief realizations that many of those around them are moving along with their children as they continue to grow and mature.

“Tell me about it! I can’t wait until she can drive herself, though at the same time I’m horrified of her operating a motor vehicle.” Brenda smiles while she gestures broadly, showing her mixed feelings on her daughter moving closer to adulthood. As medical professionals, they see all too often the results of poor human judgement.

Wilson is in his full-on listening mode as he crosses his arms across his chest nodding in agreement. “Time stops for no one.” And just as he’s about to add more, he feels something hit him on the back of the neck. His right hand goes to the bare space between his hair and collar, but nothing is there.

“Well, I’m sure it is a great experience, public speaking skills really pay off –“ and he stops as a small wet object hits him again in the back of the neck and this time it catches the corner of his eye on the floor – a large red grape that has rolled to a halt. By time he’s turned to look up at the second-floor balcony, he and Brenda are greeted with another grape tossed at Wilson’s face; the grape hits him square in the forehead and he closes his eyes while cringing. This is accompanied by House staring down at the two of them. House stands completely still with the bunch of grapes in his hands and he is frozen like a cat stalking a bird in the grass.

“Wilson! You were supposed to walk by my office seven minutes ago. Stop being nice and reinforcing your professional relationship with Brenda and get your ass up here!” House has decided to voice his displeasure at Wilson and Brenda having a friendly conversation.

“Good night Doctor House!” Brenda grins as she waves to House and then looks at Wilson quickly, “Good night as well Doctor Wilson.” With that she turns and heads to the locker room to change and gather her things.

Wilson nods to her and put his hands firmly on his hips as he confidently leans back and stares back at House. “We said we’d meet at 7 for dinner and TV. It isn’t a question of what to order either, you always pick the same things on the menu. As you have for the past twelve years.”

House rolls his eyes with a dramatic movement of his head. “But I missed you this morning! I had to eat lunch alone before Clinic duty because you had that off-campus meeting. I need to make sure I get my allotted amount of Wilson time.”

Wilson takes his hands off of his hips and holds them out to his sides, palms open and up towards House, “What do you want me to do? Not advance my career?” expecting a snarky response Wilson stares back at House with a blank expression.

House pauses for an instant in thought, within mere seconds he goes from a neutral expression to shit-eating grin, “Fire in the hole!” and with that House begins to pelt Wilson with grapes from above. 

“Oh fuck!” Wilson ducks down and begins to glance around him as he covers his head and his hair with his arms. House continues to toss the small plant-based projectiles at him, but he begins to pick up grapes from the floor around him putting them in his labcoat’s pockets. 

“Admit defeat and submit to your _Vitis vinifera_ overlords!” House sounds more confident, but Wilson makes note that House’s ammunition is a finite supply. Upping the ante, Wilson laughs like an idiot before he yells back at House.

“Admit defeat? Never!” he has grabbed a considerable number of grapes and he dives behind the central desk currently empty. 

House presses his attack, “Only cowards hide from danger!” but this time most of the grapes fly over Wilson or land on the desk. On his hands and knees, he waits for the grape attack to stop. Sure enough, House becomes impatient and runs out his supply. “Willlsoon! You can’t hide forever; I know where your office is!” Wilson takes a deep breath and waits for House to head back to their offices.

It pays off as House confidently heads towards the elevators and to the hallway were their offices are located. Right as he’s moving before the elevators, Wilson hops up on top of the desk and grabs a handful of grapes out of his whitecoat pocket in his right hand and takes aim with his left.

Making sure to line up a decent shot, Wilson yells to get House’s attention. “House!” House does exactly what he predicted he would, he stops walking and turns to look at Wilson. It is at that moment of yelling his name that Wilson has released the grape launching it towards House’s head and it nails him right in the nose as House makes an ‘Ack!’ as it hits him. 

“Run for your life House!” and with his rallying cry, Wilson rapidly begins to fire his grapes at House as he limps away as quickly as possible. 

Realizing he’s in a pinch, House dives down to the floor and begins to pick up the grapes Wilson has fired back at him. He yells over the balcony, “Cheater! Taking advantage of a cripple!”

Wilson stands ready on the front desk with plenty of grapes as he waits for House to pop back up, as he should. Egging on House, Wilson yells back that, “Let it be he who is without sin be the one to cast the first grape!”

Not surprisingly, using religious scripture pushes all the right buttons in House and he pulls himself up.

House’s reply is immediate as he glares back down at Wilson. “Die!” and the two of them both throw grapes at each other with abandon, grinning like idiots until a voice cuts through the flurry of grapes flying through the air.

**_“HOUSE! WILSON! WHAT THE HELL?!?!?”_ **

Both men turn to see Cuddy as she exits her office into the foyer. Her teal eyes communicate only one word to both of them in an instant – **_murder_**. Wilson feels a flush spreading across his cheeks as he immediately hangs his head and ruffles his hair with his right hand. 

House responds with a hesitant “Yes?” that contains faux innocence; Wilson knows that tone of voice will send Cuddy into a rage.

“House, how is that even a question?” Cuddy glares up at him. “How many times have I told you to stop throwing grapes on people? And before you answer that question, you can bet you Clinic hours doubled next week!” House retreats back from the railing but is keen to see how Cuddy addresses Wilson’s participation in the now, officially noted, fifth grape launching incident of his tenure here at PPTH.

Cuddy walks towards Wilson, her purse in her hand as she crosses her arms across her chest over her stylish and fitted wool coat. “Wilson, I can’t believe you played along with House’s childish behavior, if you weren’t bringing in additional income for participating in those clinical trials, I’d double your Clinic duties as well, but your department finally sorted out staffing issues.” 

Cuddy’s face softens and Wilson slides off the desk looks at her heels and back to her face before he replies. “Sorry, I couldn’t help it. I’ll get House to help me to clean up right now.” He looks at her from under his bushy eyebrows while channeling his most innocent puppy dog look that he can manage.

It works as Cuddy sighs before she adjusts her hair. “Fine. House! Get your ass down here and help Wilson sweep up.” 

House pauses between heading to his office and taking the elevator down, “And if I don’t help Wilson clean up?”

“Then you will definitely be doing double Clinic duty next week.” Cuddy’s statement is non-negotiable. House nods and he presses the elevator button with his cane, and he makes his way down to Wilson and Cuddy next to the desk. 

“Come on Wilson, let’s deal with this. I want an early supper at your place.” House hobbles off to the janitor’s closet and Wilson shrugs towards Cuddy and nods to her.

“Have a good weekend Cuddy.” Wilson smiles in relief as he catches a smile spread across her face. She’s also seeing what House is like clean and sober. Still unpredictable, but his pranks have returned to a more innocent state and she turns to head out the front doors. 

“Have a good one boys. Wilson, make sure House doesn’t try to escape.” With that final remark, Cuddy leaves the quiet foyer, the click-clack of her matching patent heels echo behind her and both men smile to themselves.

House sweeps all of the grapes into a small herd and Wilson bends down to collect them with the dustpan. The two of them decide what to get for supper, and of course House wants to order the same thing he always does, and Wilson feels that everything is okay. After ten minutes of grape collection and disposal, they stroll over to the elevator and Wilson and House part ways to head to their respective offices. 

“I’ll place the order now and pick it up. Bring a few beers.” Wilson makes his small nod of understanding towards House after he speaks and House nods back.

“Sure. See you soon Wilson.” House then makes his way to his office while Wilson calls in their order from his office.

Wilson finds himself again humming as he heads out his office to the garage. For his drive to Bamboo Garden and then to his condo, he puts the Purity Ring album ‘Shrines’ into his CD deck and he floats his way home. 

As he opens the door, briefcase and takeout in his left hand, he notices a pair of running shoes in the entryway and House’s riding jacket on the table. “I’m home! Pull out the plates, will you?” Wilson’s voice echoes into the living room and House stands up from his couch and makes his way to the kitchen cabinets.

“Okay!” House replies and he can hear the TV at a reasonable volume as Wilson tosses his keys in the bowl on the table, removes his shoes and hangs up his coat and scarf. Hungry himself, he walks the bursting bag of take-out to House in the kitchen who immediately begins fixing himself a plate. Wilson then takes the time to hang up his suit in his bedroom and removes his tie while sliding into slippers. He can get his overnight bag and clothing from yesterday after eating out of the trunk of his car.

“Food!” Wilson says this with a little more excitement than is necessary as he spoons out rice and some orange chicken and black bean tofu with veggies. His plate piled high with Americanized Chinese food and he places his chopsticks across his plate holding it with his right hand. This allows him to reach into the fridge with his left. House’s six pack, now with five bottles remaining is a mix of Rolling Rock and Stella. Feeling young, Wilson grabs a pony with his left hand, and he walks over to the couch at TV where House is already inhaling his food, eyes glued to the glow of the flatscreen.

Wilson settles into the couch next to House, putting his plate down he pulls the front of his shirt out from his pants and holds it over the cap of his beer. With his right hand, he gives the bottle cap a quick twist opening the cold beer. He tosses the cap on his coffee table and takes a sip before tucking his shirt back into his pants.

House puts his plate down for a minute and picks up his beer in his right hand, and holds it out towards Wilson, holding his in his left.

“Cheers.” Wilson taps his bottle into Houses as House briefly smiles as he replies “Cheers, Wilson.”

Both men sip their beers in a natural contented silence before House is distracted by the bad bikini wax one of the Housewives of Atlanta just got. Wilson relaxes as he feels warm and comfortable on his plush couch. 

During a commercial break, Wilson collects their used dishes and places them in the dishwasher. He runs down to the garage to grab his clothing and items from yesterday while House takes a piss break.

Upon return to the apartment, House is back on the couch, and he’s got a new Stella and a recently opened Rolling Rock is on a coaster waiting for Wilson’s return. By the third beer, Wilson is feeling sleepy and he’s pretty sure that Sherri is lying about her nose job to her fiancé Tyrone, her third possible husband in the past five years.

As the show’s credits scroll by, Wilson turns to see House out cold as his mouth is slightly open as he sleeps peacefully. Realizing that House will be in for a world of pain if he stays on the couch, Wilson gets up and puts on his tea kettle and pulls out some chamomile tea and pulls down the strongest legal painkiller and a heating pad. As the kettle begins to whistle, House is roused from his sleep.

“Hey.” Wilson looks at House with what could only be described as love, “I’ve made you a cup of tea and I’m prepping a heating pad. Crash in the spare room tonight.”

House’s bright blue eyes stare back at Wilson for a moment before he blinks and slowly sits up. “Okay. You’ve got the legal stuff too. You know how I just don’t trust those black-market ibuprofens!” House’s joke is without acid as he can’t spit the same sort of vitriol he once did when he was at the mercy of the Vicodin. 

Wanting to support his best friend, but not be overbearing, Wilson walks the tea and pills over to House. He gets a grunt and a nod as House drinks the tea and takes the painkillers as he rubs his thigh preparing to make the walk to the spare bedroom. 

Quiet with House can become unnerving if it goes on for too long; Wilson distracts him as he pours the hot water into the heating pad. “Any idea of what you are going to exactly make for Thanksgiving desert? We can go shopping for items next weekend at the Farmer’s Market or the fancy grocery store near you.”

House readjusts himself as he drinks more of the tea without complaint. If this were before his trip to rehab, House would be insulting Wilson’s offer of anything other than booze, coffee or pop. Instead, he seems to relax with the herbal tea of former evil or terrible leaf juice as House called it.

“Hhhrrrmmm. Yeah, I haven’t decided yet. What do you think is more impressive? Pumpkin macaroons or pumpkin cupcakes with caramel filling and a light whipped cream topping.” House looks at Wilson for his honest opinion as he reaches for his cane and slowly pulls himself up.

Wilson puts the heating pad full of nearly boiling water in its fabric casing, double checking the cap is tightly sealed. He walks around his kitchen island to hand the heating pad to House as he will make his way to the guest room. Looking into his best friend’s eyes, Wilson softens as the heating pad is relayed from his right and to House’s left. 

“Macaroons obviously. Though, I’m free to taste test the cupcakes if you need assistance.” Wilson smirks as he says this and House scoffs at him as he moves gingerly down the hallway.

“Nice try Wilson, but your waistline is better off with the macaroons. Night!” House then walks into the bathroom and he hears him prepare for bed by washing up. 

“Night House.” Wilson replies to House now out of sight.

With that, Wilson sleepily tidies up his living room and kitchen. He transfers all the take-out to Tupperware containers, rinses out the beer bottles and puts them in his blue bin, and rinses and puts House’s tea mug in the dishwasher. He’ll run it tomorrow when he’s out for his errands. 

As he turns the lights out in the living room and kitchen he smiles back at the messy blankets on his couch and the lingering smell of beer and orange chicken. The night light in the main bathroom illuminates his way back towards his room and he quietly shuts his door before turning on his side lamps and he showers before changing into his comfy pajamas and falling into bed, feeling whole for the first time in a long time. 

With that Wilson feels himself just before he drops off into sleep –

\- and he is content.

* * *

You’ve settled down to on your couch with Keith on your left and a steaming hot mug of orange spice tea to you right. The bell like tones ring as you dial your best friend. The video display pops up as he sits at his kitchen table with a glass of red wine to the side wearing a sweater.

After the exchange of your customary greetings, you being to update him on your subsequent dates with Wilson and even explain the more recent House prank. He nods along until you find yourself bringing up dinner last night and your awkward encounter with the annoying doctor from New York.

“This is new for you.” Your best friend’s words cause you to jerk back in surprise even though you are linked only through cable and thousands of miles of telecom infrastructure. He seems as though he isn’t shocked by your lack of an immediate response.

“You are dating, but with a man who has the intent to make this a long-term relationship.” His words have just articulated that feeling which has been following you since last night and made you feel so relaxed and content today, even with that annoying man pestering you at lunch.

Could it be that you are picking up on his need for a stable committed relationship and it isn’t causing you to run for the hills? A lump forms in your throat and you need some tea to wash it down before you speak.

“I think you might be right. I’m not looking at myself as being temporary here, which means I can look at putative partners as more than just a quick fling and fuck.” As you say this, your friend laughs and you realize that this is likely already more serious than you thought, or you were willing to recognize. 

That jolts you to attention and you also know that you need to pee, and you excuse yourself while Keith licks his crotch in full view of your friend.

While washing your hands you notice another toothbrush in the holder, which you clearly missed this morning as you got ready for work. Your soap dispenser is nearly empty, and you decide to refill it before it escapes you, and you open the drawer where you think the ecofriendly refill in the plastic bag is. Instead of finding the refill, you discover a tube of brand new Colgate toothpaste with whitening, men’s hair product and anti-wrinkle moisturizing coconut facial cream. 

The toothbrush wasn’t left on accident as you had first thought, it is a member of the advanced toiletry guard! The next drawer reveals the soap refill and you top up your Fiesta ware dispenser and return to your conversation with your best friend as he informs you that Keith has no decency when it comes to licking his cat balls.

Your retort is that his rabbit eats its own poop and at least your furry companion is cool enough to sleep with at night.

“End up taking a dump or something?” your best friend’s words result in you rolling your eyes in annoyance.

“No, I got distracted. The soap ran out, so, I had to dig to find where I had unpacked the refill, and in the process, I discovered foreign toiletry items stashed in one of my drawers and were accompanied by a toothbrush near the sink.” You are uneasy as you aren’t sure how to address this.

Your best friend starts to giggle before it grows to outright laughter. “Oh, yeah, your relationship is serious. I’m impressed by his forwardness! Go cute older oncologist dude!” and your friend is so bright that his grin becomes infections and you find yourself lightening up.

“Okay, I’ll give it to him, it was pretty clever, and I do have the space for him to store his stuff.” You give Keith some good pets before you turn back to your friend.

“Soooo, what happens next? I ask for my own spot at his place?” you seem almost eager for your friend’s input as he is no stranger to successful long-term relationships.

He looks up with thought before he returns his gaze through you though the laptop camera. His expression is soft, yet serious and he pauses for a second longer than you feel comfortable with. “He’s going to tell you that he loves you.” 

As soon as your friend says this, you feel your stomach drop, but you know he’s right. Wilson is the type of guy who will speak from the heart and his emotions will definitely lead the way.

You reach for your tea to take a sip, but it remains in your hand as you look back at your friend. 

“What do I say back?” you say this with an anxious concern.

Your best friend then smiles at you and you see a sparkle in his green eyes across the miles that distance you. 

“You tell him you love him too.” 

With his words, the obvious truth that has been following you since dinner last night has reach full concrete form.

You nod, and he changes the topic to the weather and his semester at the university. The rest of the conversation is a daze, and you are pretty sure he knows that you aren’t 100% with him for the rest of your chat. 

As the hour stretches later into the evening, you yawn and wrap up your conversation to get to bed at a reasonable hour. Your bedtime routine is a haze, you know that you shower, wash your hair, brush your teeth, moisturize your face and all of that . . . but you don’t really have an awareness of it until you settle into bed. 

After you turn off the light, you feel Keith as he settles down next to you and for the first time you feel like something might be missing. Keith seems to sense it as he stretches out his back along yours as the two of you fall asleep to the soft hum of your analog clock radio.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think as House returns to a more sober stability, his boyish pranks should bubble up, with an air of innocence around them. Sure, they'd be annoying, but the biting and vindictive nature of his misplaced anger would have moved on with his acceptance of his reality. Wilson would almost encourage these as they would allow House to get that nervous energy out without hurting others.
> 
> You can't keep that much frustration bottled up, before you snap and find yourself.
> 
> Additionally, CIUT 89.5 FM out of the University of Toronto is an excellent community radio station. When I can't decide on what to listen to, I'll tune into CIUT online or KEXP out of Seattle. Both stations have helped me maintain my sanity as we reach month 6 of pandemic life.
> 
> 'I was born (a unicorn)' is an excellent song. Listen to it if you can. I'm sure you will smile.
> 
> I spent many a Saturday morning from October through March towards the end of high school competing in speech tournaments run by the original NFL. I even came back to judge a few times but I have never missed the early mornings, though the copious games of euchre between rounds is a fond memory for me.


	14. before things get busy (at work)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Total Wilson dating fluff being super adorable! Brief insights into House's addiction recovery process and another member of the Diagnostics team encounters Wilson in a relationship in the wild.
> 
> A very dialogue heavy chapter, but dating isn't all about sexy times.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is rather realistic discussion of female biology and how society still has a long way to go in normalizing how to act around these things. In my own personal experience, sexual activity during menstruation has generally not been something most male partners have been keen on. Though a few have been totally cool with this, but yeah - society does not advance quickly.
> 
> So, if you aren't into basic talk about it and it makes you squeamish than, you have been warned. 
> 
> More music nerding out of course.

House’s alarm on his phone goes off at 5:20am. He’s able to turn it off and he remembers that he’s back in Wilson’s condo; of course, this was due to Wilson’s ever-present concern for his wellbeing. However, again and again, he will never admit that he’s grateful that Wilson worries about him. The longer he’s been off the Vicodin the more perspective he has on how much Wilson has done for him.

So, in the cold, dark silence of a November Saturday morning, he goes to the dresser where he keeps an assortment of clothing here just in case. There is a pair of sweatpants, fresh underwear, and a long-sleeve shirt which will be fine for his early morning yoga class. With calm and silent determination, he collects all of his dirty clothing from yesterday strewn across the room and the pajamas he wore to sleep. The heating pad water bottle has long become cool, but he remembers to pick it up as well. It clearly helped as he’s less stiff as he makes his way to the door arms full of the clothing and the heating pad. Slowly and quietly, he walks down the hall and places the heating pad on the kitchen counter and places his dirty clothes in the washing machine – Wilson will know what to do.

Opening the fridge, he pours himself a cold glass of water and takes two ibuprofen; dry swallowing pills is **_so_** pre-rehab. Not wanting to alarm Wilson, he leaves a quick note on the fridge.

**_See you at work on Monday. Clothes are in the washer._ **

He uses the bathroom to wash his face helping him to wake up; as a proud night owl, adapting to an early bird schedule will never be natural. With that, he quietly walks to the entryway to the condo and gathers his few items; keys, wallet, phone and puts on his jacket and shoes and heads down to the garage where he parked his bike in Wilson’s extra spot. 

At 5:40 am, House turns the ignition on the bike and his body vibrates in anticipation of his yoga-pain management class. As usual, he’s torn and irritated by the fact that his own body betrays him by liking the class, but he’s grown to look forward to them.

In the softness of the pre-dawn chill, he makes his way to the yoga studio, beeps his card into the class and he picks up a mat and extra supports and settles into his favorite spot in the corner. The wide range of students enter from all walks of life and at 6 am, the instructor starts class with the single strike of a small gong (soooo silly), but he knows that for the next hour he’ll settle in to do whatever she tells him and he’ll feel better than he has in years. Sometimes, he even floats to a place where he swears he may feel better than he did pre-infarction . . . . but that’s **_just crazy_** and he lets that thought drift out of his mind. That’s what the teacher always tells them to do with thoughts that bubble up during class.

After the class finishes, he heads home and changes out of his workout clothing and settles in for a nice soak in his bathtub as he starts to think about what stores he’ll have to make Wilson drive him to next Saturday for ingredients for the pumpkin macaroons. A smile settles on his face, but without a mirror or someone witness this, House has no idea how he is content for the first time in years.

* * *

Saturday morning Wilson wakes up naturally feeling unusually calm and rested despite it being just after sunrise. He rolls over in bed not quite ready to get up and he enjoys the warmth of his bed, fluffy duvet and all. This allows him to drift back to sleep and when he wakes up again, it is light by that point and his natural instincts cause him to rise.

He then remembers that House crashed in the spare room last night, so he’s certain he won’t be awake for some time. Being polite, he decides to shower after House is awake, and he takes a piss and heads into the kitchen to make some breakfast. As he walks by the spare bedroom, he’s surprised to see the door is open and the bed sheets messy . . . perhaps House is already up? In the kitchen he finds the water bottle heating pad on the counter next to an empty glass and there is the note from House on the refrigerator.

He reads it, so typical House:

****

**_See you at work on Monday. Clothes are in the washer._ **

This means two things; one – House woke up before him, returned the heating pad to the kitchen and two – his dirty clothing items are to be washed by him.

In confusion, Wilson ruffles his hair more than usual, making his messy bed head even messier. House does not do mornings. House doesn’t do mornings earlier than Wilson. To willingly leave early makes him panic; House is clearly hiding something from Wilson.

The feeling of helplessness that plagued Wilson as House’s addiction spiraled out of control bubbles up and he realizes he needs to know where House escaped to. 

He dials House’s cell and after the agonizing torture of several rings House picks up.

“What? I’m about to make some breakfast muffins.” House seems normal with his natural twinge of annoyance.

“Oh, um, I was surprised to see you got up and left before I did.” Wilson knows his concern is too obvious in his voice, but he’s perplexed.

House makes a scoffing noise, “Yes Mom, I’ve learned how to wake up on my own and now I’m baking. You can tell all the girls in Home Economics, I’m going to win the muffin competition at the county fair.”

Wilson’s voice cracks “House, what?” as his right-hand pinches his scrunched-up nose as he tries to figure out what is going on.

House for once realizes that he’s causing Wilson’s brain to crash and responds directly. “Wilson, I’m back home making some muffins. I was feeling okay this morning, but I could tell I needed a good soak for the leg. So, you can stop panicking and I’ll see you on Monday.”

Wilson’s mind is finally able to restart, and he responds, “You are okay? As well as you can be?” and his concern only lingers as he says ‘be’ to House.

House replies curtly, “Yes. Relax Wilson.” A kitchen appliance beeps in the background. “Welp, the oven is up to temperature. Gotta go!” and with that House has hung up.

Wilson stands in his kitchen staring at his phone in hand blinking as if he could think more clearly if he could see more clearly. If he’s awake and not dreaming or hallucinating due to House drugging him (he still wouldn’t put it beyond House) than it appears that House got up on his own, dealt with his pain in a rational manner and is now, _making_ _muffins_. 

He takes a deep inhale and releases all of the air and more on the exhale before he starts his coffee maker and decides on scrambled eggs with toast. As he addresses his own need for caffeine and calories, his attention shifts to what he needs to buy at the Farmer’s Market and calling his girlfriend up about later today. 

After breakfast, he showers, styles his hair for its flowing best and puts on jeans, a solid navy blue t-shirt and his McGill sweatshirt. The Farmer’s Market isn’t too busy as he gets there around 10 and he’s done with his shopping in about an hour. After unpacking his tasty goods, he dials her number as he collects some of his dirty laundry to wash with House’s (there will be no skimpy loads just in the name of House’s five or so items).

She picks up the phone and the sound of a radio is heard in the background.

“Hello. All done with your errands?” Her voice seems slightly different, but he can’t put his finger on it.

“Yep, I just finished putting everything away. You hungry for lunch at noon or okay with a later lunch?” He’s got an idea, but it won’t work if they are both too hungry.

Her reply sounds normal this time, “I slept in a bit, so I’m not super hungry for lunch at noon. Did you have something in mind?”

With that out of the way, operation ‘spontaneous Wilson’ is on. Wilson smirks though she can’t see it, “I do. Will you be ready for me to pick you up at say 11:30?”

“Sure, I can do that.” She sounds curious and does preface it with a follow up statement. “Speaking of that, if you want to pick me up at 11:30, you’ll have to let me go right now.”

“Oh, okay then! I’ll see you soon!” and with that she’s hung up on Wilson. Wow. She’s certainly got the phone habits that seem to almost match House’s own habits. 

Over the next few minutes, Wilson pulls up Yelp to find a decent place to eat near the art museum in Philadelphia and picks a random place based on the five star reviews. Some sort of Asian fusion/bubble tea place . . . it works.

Keeping things casual, he wears his navy blue Keds, and grabs his winter coat and scarf but tosses them in the back seat of the car. At exactly 11:30am he pulls up outside of her place and before he can even call her, she exits the building wearing her black wool peacoat over plaid pants.

She opens the passenger side door and steps into car as she smiles at him softly. “Morning.” And then she leans over to kiss him on the right cheek as her left-hand settles on his thigh. 

A definite blush of surprise covers his face, “Hello. How’s it going today?” he feels like he’s trying to not have his voice crack in surprise again.

She cocks her head to the side as she thinks, “I’m feeling a bit tired, I didn’t sleep as well as I wanted to last night.”

It is clear that she is not going to elaborate as she tucks her hair behind her left ear and look forward. 

Wilson feels like he’s woken up to a strange day, House waking up early and there is something bothering her. Well, he isn’t just an oncologist and cat whisperer, he’s an expert of understanding people so he’ll figure out what it is.

“You’ll likely want to take your coat off for the time being. It will be about an hour in the car.” Wilson doesn’t want her to overheat in the car. Being hot in a car is the worst feeling.

With that, the air around her shifts and she’s interested, and she removes her jacket before buckling in.

“Oh ho, we are going beyond the range of Princeton city limits?” Her flirtiness has returned as she watches his face.

Wilson beams as he pulls out onto the street, “We certainly are.” And then he looks back at her to see her reaction. 

“Is it a secret? Or are you just being dramatic?” as she replies he catches the glimpse of a smile spreading in her reflection as she looks out the window as they drive towards the interstate.

Wilson feels more comfortable and pushes things along, “Hhhhrrrrmmmm. I guess it depends. Do you want it to be a surprise? I feel like you are the type of person who always has to know.” And he makes sure to wiggle his eyebrows at her at a stoplight.

“True. How about I figure out as we go? I’ll start guessing.” She looks smug, as she is also a Doctor.

Wilson nods in reply, “Okay. We’ll see how accurate your guess is.” And he reaches to the radio and tunes it to NPR which apparently is one of the weekend edition talk programs. For the first time in a long time, it doesn’t seem to be what Wilson wants on in the background. 

He doesn’t even have a chance to change it, as she’s commandeered the stereo and she ejects the CD to see what is in his deck. 

“Awww, it is the Purity Ring album. You really like it that much?” She seems in awe of it and there is a bit of a blush on her face. “You have any more CDs?”

He shakes his head, “The rest are still in my office. I do have my ipod in the glovebox, you can plug that in.”

She roots around pulling out his ipod and the aux-in cable, switches the input and scrolls through his music library. There are little sounds here and there as she seems to access his limited and stereotypical selection.

But, with an approving hum, she seems to have found something she likes, and the opening notes of Depeche Mode’s album ‘Music for the Masses’ surprise him.

“You like Depeche Mode?” Wilson is intrigued by her selection. 

She settles into her seat relaxing as he makes his way to I-295. “There are many excellent bands. Plus, I haven’t listened to this album in a while.”

There is a brief pause as she throws out her first guess – “Heading to I-295. Hrrrmm, I sense this will lead to I-95.” 

Wilson smirks, “Okay, so we might be heading to I-95. I’m gonna need specifics from you.” His eyes are focused on the road, but he makes sure to make his eyebrows look as serious as possible.

“Bah!” and she gives him a quick playful slap on his right arm, “Until we merge with 95, I can’t say anything else, obviously we could go north or south. But seeing that we took the westbound part of the loop, I’ll boldly say south.”

Wilson looks at her as she moves slightly along to the music, “Is that your final answer?”

“Yep.” She seems confident as they bypass Trenton. Traffic is moderate and they don’t talk much as they move along the interstate loop. 

“Ah ha! We’re heading to Philly.” She gestures at him as they drive under the sign declaring that ‘Pennsylvania Welcomes You!’ as the car crosses into the Keystone State. 

* * *

You wake up Saturday morning feeling tired and crappy. After your conversation with your best friend last night, you came to the realization that your relationship with Wilson is becoming serious, rather quickly. Or it seems quick for you. As a result, it took you longer to fall asleep than normal and your sleep was rather restless.

Keith is insistent that you feed him breakfast and you drag yourself out of bed, dump kibble in his bowl, take a piss and head directly back to bed. Thankfully, you are able to fall back asleep and you wake up again at 9:30. Wilson said he’d call you about things today by noon. He’d at most be at the Farmer’s Market right now, so you still have time to slowly pull yourself out of bed. Feeling lethargic you sluggishly amble into the kitchen and put on the kettle to boil water for coffee and you aren’t super hungry, so you hold off on breakfast for now. With that you settle down onto your couch as you turn on the stereo to listen to the local indie station and you aimlessly browse the internet. Around 10:30 or so you finally decide to have a banana with a breakfast pita with peanut butter on top. Just before 11, your phone rings, it is Wilson.

He is bright and cheerful, and you feel yourself feeling hyper-aware of him now, so you greet him and inquire if he’s done with his errands. 

His reply is succinct and to the point. “Yep, I just finished putting everything away. You hungry for lunch at noon or okay with a later lunch?” 

Since you really slept in and you just ate less than twenty minutes ago, food isn’t a huge priority right now. You reply that since you slept in you aren’t hungry for lunch anytime soon and ask him if he’s thinking of something in particular.

His reply is playful with a bit of mystery in it, “I do. Will you be ready for me to pick you up at say 11:30?”

Looking at the clock, displaying 10:54, you quickly calculate the amount of time it will take to get ready, and reply that you can do that. And as soon as you say it, you need to get Wilson off the phone so you can shower now.

You tell him that you have got to go and preventing any further Wilson chatting you tell him you will see him soon and hang up.

You quickly hop in the shower and are finally able to get dressed. Since Wilson wasn’t very specific and you aim for casual but fashionable. You select your pair of brown/cream/black plaid wool pants and match it with your basic black v-neck sweater. Since you feel a bit more drained than normal, you decide to skip any real make-up and go for clean and simple with moisturizer, deodorant and blood orange perfume. You may be quite basic when it comes to personal care items, but you will never be caught without at least wearing perfume.

Since you are cutting things a little close, you use the bathroom and then grab you satchel with your necessary items and see that it is already 11:25. Keith is asleep on the couch and you tell him to be good and that you will be back as you put on your basic oxford flats, scarf, mittens and wool coat and keep your hat at hand. 

All set, you head to downstairs to the lobby and exit the main doors to see Wilson in his car parked right across the street leaning over to likely call you. You walk over and open the car door feeling unusually bold. 

You smile at him as you say, “Morning.” And before he has a chance to reply you lean over and kiss him on the right cheek while placing your left-hand on his thigh. It feels like you are him, or you think this is how it might feel to be him.

And Wilson’s reaction is confirmation that you may be him as he blushes and seems surprised as his eyebrows move before he replies with a simple hello and asks how you are.

Realizing that your less than ideal night’s sleep might be making you a little more forward, you decide to be somewhat honest. You tell him you are tired today due to not sleeping well. But you don’t want him to realize it is because you were thinking about him, this relationship, where it is going and if it is going to get serious.

Wilson then replies, not asking for clarification, which strikes you as unusual for him instead he suggests taking off your coat since whatever you are doing is about an hour away.

He’s piqued your interest and you are thankful that he mentioned taking the coat off. If there is anything that you cannot stand it is to be hot in a moving vehicle; heat induced carsickness is not something you are too keen on. Wilson may be an almost overly courteous but you like the fact that he’s explicit even when he’s not revealing the final destination.

You remove your coat and toss it into the backseat before buckling your seat belt and you are intrigued where you could be going. There are several likely destinations, but until he gets on a major road it will be unclear.

And then, you reply feeling again more flirty than normal, “Oh ho, we are going beyond the range of Princeton city limits?” 

You watch his face to see what he will reveal. He looks happy and replies to you with minimal information that you are leaving Princeton (haha, pretty obvious) and how he’s looking at you with great attention.

His sense of trying to make it mysterious, leads you to ask if his destination is secret or if he’s just trying to create a dramatic situation. You could be annoyed, but his happiness is slowly seeping into you and you turn away from him to hide your smile and look out the window.

Wilson’s reply is hesitant at first as he seems to gather his thoughts, “Hhhhrrrrmmmm. I guess it depends. Do you want it to be a surprise? I feel like you are the type of person who always has to know.”

The car has reached a stoplight, and he then turns to face you while wiggling his eyebrows for emphasis. It is adorable. And he is communicating with you, giving you the opportunity to either have it be a surprise or if it bothers you, he’ll tell you. God, a part of you moves in a way that you never realized and appreciates how he works to make things as comfortable as possible.

The idea of a full mystery is annoying, plus you put things together pretty quickly, so, you opt for the middle ground. You recognize that he’s correct that you generally need to know things, but you tell him you will try to determine it as you head in the direction of the unknown.

Wilson nods in reply and he seems like he likes this idea, “Okay. We’ll see how accurate your guess is.”

Since it will be more than a few minutes across town in the car, he turns on the radio and the sound of a talk program on weekend edition is on. Wilson makes an odd face at it, and being the annoying music nerd that you are, you reach out to eject the CD in his player to see if it is something worth listening to. 

As the disc pops out, you feel that shift inside yourself even more as it is the Purity Ring album you gave him. You can’t help but speak in full approval of this discovery.

“Awww, it is the Purity Ring album. You really like it that much?” As you hold the disc in your hands you look around where the case is and put it away. Of course, you ask if he’s got any more.

Wilson than says the thing that makes any card-carrying music nerd happy in a car for more than five minutes, he gives you permission to use his ipod in the glovebox! 

You quickly find the ipod and the aux-in cable and plug it into his stereo. Next, you must see what your options are scrolling through things. There is a fair amount of swing, some musicals (interesting . . .) top hits of the 80s, what would be considered adult contemporary of the 90s. There is some Galaxie 500 (possible), Blondie (also possible), New Order (definitely do-able) and then you settle on Depeche Mode, as he’s got ‘Music for the Masses’ and album you have in your collection but haven’t listened to for some time. 

You hum in approval and press play.

Wilson seems surprised and immediately asks you if you like Depeche Mode.

Ah, he doesn’t realize how many bands you like, but you feel more comfortable as you lean back into the seat and you notice him heading to the on ramp for I-295. You feel that you should let him know that you appreciate many different bands.

“There are many excellent bands. Plus, I haven’t listened to this album in a while.” And with the first clue to a destination you comment on it as Wilson merges onto traffic on the interstate loop.

“Heading to I-295. Hrrrmm, I sense this will lead to I-95.” 

He seems to be having fun with this as he smirks, “Okay, so we might be heading to I-95. I’m gonna need specifics from you.” 

You are glad that he’s focused on driving, but he makes a serious expression that your answer wasn’t quite good enough. He’s flirting with you in a teasing intellectual sort of way. It is – different – and interesting and it makes you silly.

Making a sound of annoyance, you then reach out to quickly smack his right arm, “Until we merge with 95, I can’t say anything else, obviously we could go north or south. But seeing that we took the westbound part of the loop, I’ll boldly say south.”

Feeling confident that you are going to head to I-95 south, you let your head nod along to Depeche Mode (it has been a long time since you’ve listened to this album!)

He asks if that is your final answer and as you bypass Trenton you are certain in your answer. And with that you fall into a comfortable silence as he drives like an ideal defensive driver in his already safe Volvo. 

When you approach the large sign indicating the Pennsylvania border, you dramatically gesture to him, “Ah ha! We’re heading to Philly.”

Wilson chuckles, “Well, that is almost cheating, waiting for the sign.”

You know he’s trying to get a rise out of you, but you decide to leave it be. “I go on what information that I have on hand.”

He laughs, “Well put. Did you want to be more specific in your answer besides just Philly?”

Honestly, you aren’t sure if you could make a decent guess. There are lots of museums and historical sights to see, most which you haven’t visited and besides the recent trip for work, you haven’t had a chance to be a tourist in Philly for a long time. And it is then that you let that part of you let go an embrace his surprise.

“Naw, I think I’ll leave it up to you to reveal the final destination. I could try and work my way down to likely places, but I’m going to see what you come up with.”

Wilson nods and he smiles at you before returning to his focus on the road. “Thanks, I think it will be good.”

You then just watch the road as you get closer to the city and simply take in the sights not having to worry about driving. It is nice. You prefer looking out the window watching things. It doesn’t matter if it is in a car, train or plane.

Wilson eventually exits the interstate to the city streets, and you are unsure of where you are going. He slows down as he nears a destination and finds street parking, but you have no idea what the final destination is. The area is a mix of lots of restaurants and cafes with shops and commercial buildings as well. 

“Okay, we need to walk about a block. You want to put on your coat or just move quickly?” He looks at you, waiting for a reply. 

“Let’s grab out coats just in case it is busy or something.” You aren’t sure where you are going so it is hard to tell if you’ll be able to get in or not immediately.

“Well then,” Wilson starts speaking as he reaches back to grab both of your coats and the two of you awkwardly contort yourselves into them while still in the car. He glances at his phone quickly and then points the general direction, “That way.”

And with that you walk onto the sidewalk with him closely behind you, his right hand settling on the small of your back. It feels nice and you are curious where you are heading.

“This is it.” Coming to a sudden stop, the two of you are outside of a small Asian café and he opens the door for you. 

The inside is clean and modern, and a hostess greets you. It is busy, but a few tables are still open. “Table for two?” the petite woman asks you with a customer service smile that dazzles even the most disgruntled of visitors.

You nod as Wilson replies, “Yes, please. Thank you.” and the two of you are led to a small cozy booth. The café is a mix of small Asian style tapas e.g. dumplings, steamed buns, soup, grilled things on a stick, pastries and most importantly – a vast selection of bubble tea.

You are intrigued how he selected this place and you look at him as you check the menu. “So, how’d you pick this place for lunch?” and you are already struggling to decide if you want a taro, lychee or red bean bubble tea.

He ruffles his hair and shrugs, “I looked for places that had 5 star reviews on Yelp that were close to our next destination. I honestly, have never eaten at a place like this, but I think the small plates caught my attention.”

You can’t help but smile, he’s both willing to try new things, but he makes sure to consult with something (in this instance, Yelp) to make sure it is okay. 

“Well, I don’t have an issue with sharing some different items with you. I think it will be harder to choose what type of bubble tea to get. I’ve been busy since I moved to Princeton and I haven’t gone out of my way to get bubble tea. Thanks.”

Wilson smiles in that sly way as he looks at you as he appreciates your comment. “Well than you can help me out then. I’ve never gotten a bubble tea, when did these become a thing?” he then ruffles his hair and one of the few times his age is apparent.

“Depending on where you live, sometime in the mid-2000s maybe. I think they may have been on the West Coast earlier, but that’s a terrible guess. The teas are sweet and have milk in them. What type of flavor do you think you want? Fruity or more – um – I guess Asian style in taste?” You are unsure how to explain it, but he seems to get it.

“How about fruity then?” And Wilson points to the extensive list, “Like maybe melon? Or peach?” 

You move your hand over his and point out lychee, “I think you might like lychee, it has this tangy sweetness. Sometimes the melon one can be a bit over the top.” He nods and then leans back. A minute or two later, a server shows up and asks if you are ready.

Both of you nod and he motions of you to go first. You decide to get a taro bubble tea with coffee flavored jellies, and for food you select the veggie dumplings and BBQ pork steamed buns. Wilson then orders a lychee tea and he sticks with the default boba and adds in the mango salad, and tofu satay with peanut sauce. Someone is picking the healthy options!

As you wait for your teas and food to arrive you finally ask him about yesterday. 

Wilson ruffles his hair and he leans back as he states that he’s all set for the clinical trial review, but he ran into that annoying guy again. He just left him almost mid-conversation and headed back to work. His schedule was sorted out and he got into a grape battle with House. 

“Grape battle?” you can’t hide your confusion at the statement. He shrugs and explains that House has a track record of pelting people with grapes, but he fought back. Of course, Cuddy brought it to a halt and they of course cleaned it up and House then came over to watch the Housewives of Atlanta and they enjoyed beer and Chinese take-out. Wilson has a feeling of contentment was he explains these both unusual and banal events. 

Again, you aren’t surprised by his antics with House, but he could do much worse than tossing grapes at each other.

Your server has returned with your teas and Wilson looks at his in awe. It is a soft yellow color and the black bubbles roll around as he picks up the cup to inspect it with the heat sealed top. Without hesitation you pick up a straw and tear off the cover and pop yours through the sealed top and take a sip of your taro, coffee jelly goodness.

With caution and precision, he opens his straw from the carefully removes it from the plastic cover and then he aims the straw at his tea before lifting up once and aiming before breaking the membrane. You are curious to see his reaction as he takes a hesitant sip. His brow furrows as he tentatively sips his lychee flavored tea and when he gets the first tapioca ball his eyes pop out as he accidentally swallows it whole.

After a quick cough of embarrassment, he looks down at the table, “That was, ah, interesting. I take it you aren’t supposed to swallow these things whole.” You start to giggle as he immediately goes to ruffle his hair making it look messier, but kinda cute.

“In general, no. Other than inhaling a bubble how is it?” You find yourself leaning over the table with your chin already in you right palm, elbow on the table.

He carefully takes another sip, and this time, deliberately makes sure to chew a bubble. He glances up and off into the distance before looking back at you. “The tea itself is good, I like how it does taste like a lychee. The bubble is a bit odd. But overall, it isn’t bad. How’s yours?”

You take a sip of it as you smile at him. “Good, I went with one of my fav orders, taro with coffee jellies. Taro flavor itself is hard to describe, but I like it.” You then reach out and offer it to him. He looks at you and hesitantly nods.

“Is it okay if I take a sip?” he looks at you with a puzzled expression. You wave the tea with the straw in front of his face. 

“Yes. This is faster than me explaining how taro tastes!” His eyes narrow as he tries to determine your intention. And with that he leans forward and takes a sip.

“Oh, wow. Yeah. Its good, but I don’t know how I’d describe that.” He seems pleasantly surprised.

The server then returns with all of your dishes and you find yourself hungry as they are spread out before you. The next few minutes are marked by silence as you eat and sip your bubble tea.

With everything cleared off the plates and into your stomach, you are curious as to what the next destination is. “So, Doctor Wilson, where are we off to next?”

He’s taking his last sip as he’s run into the issue where you have less liquid than bubble and he seems dedicated to get all of the tapioca balls. His expression becomes intense as he tries to get the last one and his right-hand gestures for you to wait. With much effort he’s able to get it, but the kick back on the inhale causes him to almost choke on it.

Thankfully, you don’t need to perform the Heimlich maneuver on him, and he manages to wrangle it. “These would make excellent spitballs!” his statement is a bit of a non sequitur and he jumps to your question. “You’ll see when we get there.” And with that he stands up to pick up the check and the two of you put on your coats as he pays at the front register.

The car ride is only a few blocks when you see the Philadelphia Museum of Art and he drives to a parking garage, which is labeled as being for the museum. You can’t help but smile as you figure out that you are going to the art museum. 

Once the car is parked, he waits for you to exit the car and he offers his arm to you as you head the few blocks to the museum. You feel special and you can’t help it and you give his arm a good squeeze.

* * *

Wilson is feeling good. He was able to drive to the random café and Yelp was correct. She seemed pleased with the selection and she’s been more forward today, even asking about yesterday and his evening with House. 

What shocked him was when she offered her tea for him to try it! He was suspicious since she seemed so hesitant to share a scone with him a few weeks ago, but in a rather House like fashion insisted he do it because it would be faster. He also realized it wasn’t like they’d run into anyone he knows here; no one could judge him for being a bit more open as far as the PDA spectrum. 

The small dishes soon follow, and they are all delicious; good job people using Yelp. As she finishes her tea, she looks at him with a flirty look as she inquires where they are heading next, but he keeps it a mystery. She’s definitely been more engaged, and it seems she’s enjoying his surprise. He has also learned these tapioca bubbles would make excellent spitballs . . . he should look into purchasing some for – ‘research purposes’ on a particular target . . .

He pays for the bill and they head back to the car even though he only has a few blocks to drive, but he wants to use the garage associated with the museum. Yes, it is pricey, but at least some of the money goes to the museum and he feels it is okay. He catches a glimpse of her face when she recognizes the location and he knows that he just nailed it. She’s smiling. 

Oh yes, he thinks to himself, I’ve still got the touch. He pulls into the garage, gets his ticket and drives in and parks the car. As they exit, he waits for her to walk around towards him and he offers his right arm to her, which she takes and gives it a good squeeze. 

“Anything in particular you want to see?” he asks her with a soft smile and his trademark sparkle as House would call it.

She tilts her head in thought, “I’m not very familiar with the collection here as I’ve only been her once before. Just not Rococo.” 

He nods and laughs at her reply, “Duly noted!” and they check their coats, pay the admission fee and head into the museum and both of them aimlessly wander through the exhibits. Away from Princeton, he finds himself also becoming bolder towards her as they meander through the galleries. He starts by lightly placing a hand on her back or shoulder as they look a piece of artwork closely. It is this interesting of ebb and flow between them and he’s aware of the first time that she touches him as he examines a vase in a display case as her left hand slips along his waist. 

He plays it cool, he has years of experience; he just lightly allows his right hand to settle on her lower back and he notices that slight shift in her posture. And so, they drift through the artwork drifting apart, but always making their way back to the other with soft touches here and there. 

Eventually, they make it to a Rothko in a room and she is immediately drawn to it as she sits down in the bench before it. The lighting for the artwork is softer than usual gallery lighting and he joins her, but Rothko isn’t an artist who has made sense to him before. He paints smudgy color boxes . . . and that's his thing as a modern artist.

Her facial expression is one of interest and she is only somewhat aware of his presence at first. Her voice is gallery quiet as she leans towards him. “What do you think? This isn’t quite the type of work from him that I like, but the way that the color has depth always sucks me in.”

Wilson tilts his head as he sits next to her. Depth? What does she mean by it? It is a two dimensional canvas, but he’s interested. And as he sits there, he notices that colors aren’t quite flat . . . if anything the colors aren’t as uniform as he originally thought and then it hits him. The paint is on the canvas in such a way that it looks like some parts are closer while others are further back and now, he can’t help but notice it. The rectangles of paint layers has an appearance of perspective.

“Woah.” He’s surprised as he speaks out loud. “It. It’s like there is more to the layers.” He turns to look at her and she just smiles and nods to him. 

And with that she leans into his left side and he wraps his arm around her as they sit for a few more minutes. He feels warm and comfortable and the smell of citrus tickles his nose, she must be wearing a citrus based perfume, yet there is no visible make-up. Interesting . . .

As other visitors pass through the room, he feels it might be a good time to move along and she seems to sense it as they stand up. This time he reaches out for her left hand with his right and he’s holding her hand as they walk. She glances back towards him with a slight look of hesitation before her fingers move and he automatically interlaces his between hers. To make sure she’s okay, he gives her hand a reassuring squeeze and they hold hands for the rest of the time. 

After about two hours of art, he’s beginning to feel a bit saturated and she has to go to the bathroom. They make their way to the nearest one, towards the main entrance and of course close to the gift shop. His trip is fast as well, he’s a dude, but he always makes sure his hand washing is through enough.

* * *

Your visit with Wilson to the museum has been enjoyable from an art appreciation perspective and from a dating point of view. As usual, he started out with gentle touches and you finally decided to take the initiative with him. 

After the Rothko, he took your hand and you decided it would be okay for him to not only hold your hand (something you don’t particularly enjoy); you let him intertwine his fingers. Your best friend is right, he’s serious.

Though at the time, it seemed nice. As you slowly got your fill of artwork, you make your way back towards the beginning and it is time to use the bathroom. Bubble tea will do that to you.

After you are done urinating you look at the toilet paper in shock – your period is a good 12-18 hours early (you are on the pill, but it isn't exact with that +/- about 12 hours for a start time). Great, just great, here you are on a date and if you were going to have any sex tonight, there is a possibility that is not going to happen. Aaaarrrgggggh, curse you not quite perfect hormonal regulation. That would definitely explain the feeling-tired bit in combination with the overthinking and the touchiness. 'Cause, hormones.

You open your satchel and are relived to find a tampon; you will be good to go until you are back in Princeton. While you are in the bathroom, you hear the sound of heels enter, a flush and then the proper washing of that individual’s hands before the clear heels exit.

Female biological processes now under control, you wash your hands and head out to meet Wilson. You’ll have to find some way to communicate the ‘situation’ before this evening. . . . boys are so weird and unpredictable about such things.

As you open the door you find Wilson standing with his arms loosely crossed as he is talking to a woman with light brown hair and very excellently done black eyeliner. Wilson is very relaxed and they both turn to you as he smiles.

* * *

Wilson is waiting outside of the restroom as many a dude has done. He glances up as he hears the door open and out walks – Thirteen?

She looks at him in surprise. “Wilson? What a surprise to see you here today.” He then watches as the puzzle pieces in her mind begin to assemble as she glances back to the bathroom door.

Wilson shifts so that he’s leaning towards his left side and he crosses his arms to look comfortable, but preventing his ability to use his more exaggerated hand motions. “Thirteen. Hello. Having a nice time at the museum?”

She walks towards him as her heels are dampened by the floor. “Oh, I’m here on a date. I’m going out to dinner after this. How about you?”

Wilson begins to reply, “Oh, same thing. Date.” 

Thirteen smiles cautiously, “Is it **_her_**?” Wilson smiles as he nods, “Yeah, she’s using the bathroom. Actually, come to think of it, she’s taking a bit longer than usual.”

And with that the door opens and she exits. He and Thirteen both turn in her direction and Wilson smiles his softest most reassuring smile possible. Time for her to meet yet another oddly random colleague.

He unfolds his arms, and gestures to her as she approaches, “There is someone, I’d like you to meet. She’s here on a date this afternoon.” She smiles slightly as he is able to reach out and pull her towards him and Thirteen.

Thirteen offers her right hand as she introduces herself, “Remy Hadley, I’m a doctor at PPTH on the Diagnostics team. I work for House and you can just call me Thirteen.” She doesn’t hesitate as she shakes Thirteen’s hand, and it appears to be a quite firm shake.

Without missing a beat, she introduces herself and explains that she works for ‘just a local branch’ of a large multinational company. Thirteen seems to be assessing her as she also sizes up Thirteen. Wilson can feel the force of the the female competition/aggressive assessment radiating out from both of them. . . . so, he does what he does best. He intervenes and smooths things out.

“Thirteen, have you just arrived or are you heading out soon?” She turns to him as he uses his left hand to pull her closer to him and away from Thirteen just a touch making it clear to her that he’s here with his girlfriend and this very attractive doctor who is about ten years younger than her is not her competition. 

This works as Thirteen nods and replies, “I just got here, my date is waiting at in the next room. I really shouldn’t keep her waiting.”

“Well, we were about to be on our way out and back to Princeton. Enjoy your visit.” Wilson smiles to her as he feels his girlfriend step back a bit from the professional female posturing (though she is much more chill and subtle than Amber ever was).

“You too. Nice to meet you.” and with that Thirteen waves as she heads into the gallery to meet up with her date.

With the departure of Thirteen, he gestures to his girlfriend, “Shall we head to the coat check?” 

She nods as he wraps his left arm around her, giving her left shoulder a reassuring squeeze.

Wilson notices she’s quiet as they head back to the entrance. He hands over the coat check tag and the clerk leaves to retrieve them. As they wait, he watches her fidget slightly, something is bothering her.

He touches her softly on the shoulder to get her attention, “Hey, is everything okay?” She looks at him surprised as she glances back and forth as she looks at the various visitors around them.

“Ah. Um, I’ll explain once we are back in the car. It isn’t a big deal, just well, you’ll understand.” She smiles at him as they are able to put on their coats and winter accessories.

And with that, they are on their way back to the garage and it is clear the weather is becoming late fall as a cold wind blows between the buildings and daylight seems to be weaker as the afternoon passes along.

Once in the car, he starts the engine to start warming it up and they take the time to remove their coats and get settled. Right before he goes to put the car into reverse, she speaks unexpectedly.

“My period started. It is a little early and I was surprised.” She looks at him blankly waiting to see his response.

He ruffles his hair and turns to her. “Okay. Umm - Do you need to pick up tampons before we leave? Or painkillers?”

Her facial expression is one of absolute shock. “Ah. No, I had one with me for emergencies so I’m good. It is just – you know . . .” and she makes a random gesture with her left hand, “It might impact your decisions when we get back.”

Wilson looks at her as the fills in the gaps. She is pretty blunt, but she’s also little vague. He tilts his head to the side as he thinks and then it hits him. “Oh.” He says this softly as he gets what she is alluding to . . . “Oh. Oh yeah.” And his voice increases in volume as he gets it.

She’s looking at him quizzically and nodding as he begins to nod along as well.

“And so?’ she asks followed by more context, “Are you interested in sleeping over at my place?”

He then feels guilty as a man, since it is clear other experiences that she’s had have led her to be uncomfortable with guys in regard to menstruation. Wilson turns to her and places his hand on her left shoulder as he looks at her in his most reassuring way possible.

“Why wouldn’t I? I noticed you had some darker towels in your bathroom. If that is okay with you to use them?” As a doctor, he’s seen more than enough gross bodily functions that menstrual blood is not going to stop him from having sex. 

It is her turn to have the similar response as she nods. “Yeah, I do have some darker towels. . .” her eyes then open wide and after a pause of realization, she continues “Oh! You aren’t bothered by it?”

Wilson gives her arm an extra squeeze, “Not at all, it is natural, and a little messy. Though, before going to your place, I need to swing by mine to pick up some clothing for tomorrow and we should figure out what to do for dinner.”

She nods along and he’s able to finally pull the car out of the parking lot as they head back to Princeton. He pays for parking and makes his way from the city streets to the interstate as she fiddles with his ipod, settling on Galaxie 500. 

“I’d like to make something fairly easy for supper. I’ve got some curry sauce; we could just pick our favorite veggies, chop them up and toss them in and eat with some rice.”

Wilson agrees with her and he safely drives them as the daylight fades in the late afternoon.

Wanting to chat a little more, Wilson asks her how her day was yesterday, he’s certain that she did not participate in any grape battles. 

She smiles as she looks out the window as they pass from Pennsylvania to Jersey. He waits for her to start as they continue northward along I-95. 

Her explanation starts out basic, what she did at work; setting up a greenhouse experiment, ordering concert tickets over her lunch break – and then she makes an annoyed noise. And she continues to explain that the obnoxious Matt Jones guy sat with her at lunch and she gives him the most detailed description of her conversation with him. And the fact that Jones was super nosy about Wilson and wanted to know if she was responsible or contributed to Wilson’s good mood. This leads to a very sarcastic five-minute rant about how Jones is annoying, fake, can’t mind his own business and clearly does not understand that people can have time alone or separate from the person that they are dating.

Wilson’s mind hangs on her use of the word **_dating_** , as it is the first verbal confirmation from her that she feels that she is indeed dating him. However, his doesn’t have long to savor the feeling as her rant continues for another few minutes and Wilson nods along or agrees that Jones is a total ass. He’s even more annoyed that he pestered her at lunch before he gave Wilson a hard time in the bathroom.

Once she’s gotten that out of her system, she returns to a much more calm and rather banal description of buying some used and new CDs, making supper and skyping with her best friend in Saskatoon.

The entire ride back he lets her do the talking and before he even realizes it, he’s parked, and they are heading up to his condo so he can pack his overnight bag and grab his important hair dryer. She uses the bathroom and drinks a glass of water while he packs his bag. He’s thinking of a lazy Sunday; he selects his most comfortable pajamas and socks for tonight and tomorrow morning. Clothing can also be casual, another sweatshirt with jeans and a t-shirt should be fine, and he selects a dark green crew neck sweatshirt and his Columbia Med shirt.

He doesn’t notice her enter his room as he’s folding all of his clothing before putting it into the bag. All of a sudden, she hugs him from behind, her hands snaking under his armpits as she pulls herself up against his back. She sighs and her body relaxes as she holds onto him for a minute or so before she let’s go of him and he turns to face her. Without saying a word, he pulls her in for a hug.

“Hey there, we need to swing by the grocery store to pick up some veggies and Keith is going to be hungry soon.” He finds himself speaking softly and she sighs as she snuggles into him a bit more. 

“I know. I’m just relieved you are being cool about things.” She smiles at him and it shifts to her sly grin, “You know in regard to sex.” 

He laughs, “Yes, I get your point. I just need to pack these things.” She sits on his bed as he packs stuff up and they discuss what vegetables from the fancy grocery store to get.

* * *

You are holding a small shopping basket in the fancy-pants grocery store of Princeton as Wilson compares two eggplants carefully. Today has been so interesting as you reflect on your surprise date in Philly.

The trip to the art museum was lovely and you liked the light lunch at the Asian tea café nearby. You think it was your hormones making you be sillier than normal. Offering him your tea, and the increased touching with him while you were at the museum. 

What is the biggest relief, is how Wilson handled your awkwardness around you having your period. It was stressful exiting the bathroom to find him chatting with that other doctor who works for House; you are pretty sure she’s the woman who was at the pub about a month ago. She had the most on point eye make-up and you were immediately concerned that she was chatting with Wilson. This in _**hindsight**_ annoys you; it was clear they were just chatting, but you fell into the bad habits of professional females.

To immediately see the other woman as competition. Though it quickly became clear she was on a date, so, it resolved itself quickly and Wilson was very gentle and touchy with you and it felt **_nice_**. 

He demonstrated rather effortlessly and naturally that he is the most attentive guy you’ve ever been involved with. It is clear that his intuition is focused on reading and then understanding others as he asked if you were okay at the coat check and you weren’t comfortable explaining the exact reasons. Society isn’t at the place where this would be a non-issue despite how much you wish it would be.

“Do you think the eggplant with the solid colored skin is better than those with the white stripes?” Wilson is holding two equal sized eggplants as he looks at you for input. Pulled out of your thoughts, you tell him that the original one is fine, and it is at least two dollars a pound cheaper as well. He shrugs and puts the white striped one back and puts the pristine looking aubergine into the basket. 

He wiggles his eyebrows as he asks what else you’d like to put in the curry. You suggest carrots, onion, chickpeas and a tomato or two. Wilson seems happy to have marching orders and he takes his time to carefully select each item. The organic, salt-free, chickpeas seem like overkill, but you let Wilson pick what he wants, he’ll pay for it.

While he continues his quest for the finest produce, you settle back into your own replay of how a possible awkward as all hell conversation with him resolved itself and it was just enough to stir your emotions and your libido for the night. It just brings you back to the idea that he’s just so sweet or his he just good, giving and game in bed?

You just watch him as he fills up the basket and he decides to be a bit indulgent putting a giant fancy brownie in the basket as well. You arch up an eyebrow in response to it and his eyes have a sparkle to them, “What? We can split it.” And he indicates he’s ready to check out.

Groceries procured, you head home and as expected, Keith is meowing through the door. He excitedly greets both of you and winds himself between both of your legs as he mews for supper. After Wilson puts his bag away, he’s washing off the rice and produce while you feed Keith and scoop his litter box.

Together to the sound of CFCF’s album ‘Continent’, you both chop all the veggies and in little time, the onions and carrots have been softened along with the eggplant and the rest of the items are tossed in with the pre-made korma curry sauce and they simmer away as the rice slowly cooks.

It is just a nice evening and you are able to settle down and convince Wilson to watch the first two episodes of ‘Doctor Who’ with the Ninth Doctor. Your slightly altered hormones are making you sleepier than you would like, so you make sure to deal with the dishes (you wash while Wilson tries to assist by drying even though you have a dish rack) and he puts on the hot water for tea and super fancy – indulgent brownie time, which completely hits the spot. 'Cause again, hormones.

Prepared for an early evening, he makes sure to lay out your darkest towels on your bed and the two of you settle down on the edge and he leans in to kiss you. He shows a huge degree of restraint as he moves slowly and carefully. It causes you to feel more aroused, and as someone who has rarely been active during this time of the month, it seems more intense than usual. It is as though he has the advantage of knowing that it might just be a real scientific thing. Hormones and all that. You already know this to an extent, you’ve paid attention and felt how your body feels right as your period starts and you almost shudder when he gently caresses your breasts through your sweater. 

He nibbles along your jawline as he asks if everything is okay and if you are feeling alright. You are able to hum in approval and with that the two of you slowly undress each other before things progress to a slightly more complicated aspect.

Afterwards, you are absolutely impressed as you lay beneath him. He was the most gentle and attentive he has even been in bed and it was exactly what you wanted. Alas, you don’t have the time to enjoy the sloppy feeling of bliss, since biology and all of its gritty and messiness along with the smells.

The two of you get up and both shower and you toss the soiled towels in the washing machine to run a quiet night cycle. Due to the early timing of events, you are out of the shower in time to brush and feed Keith who is snuggling with Wilson in what look like very cuddly and snuggly pajamas.

Keith notices you and stands up followed by a stretch that fluffs his tail in Wilson’s face leading to a now expected “Pfffttt-ack” sound from Wilson, which he doesn’t seem to mind all that much. 

Sexually satisfied, showered and sleepy the two of you look at each other with half-open eyes and brush your teeth and settle into bed.

Even though you are retiring at an earlier hour than normal, Keith quickly comes to join you and you sigh as Wilson cuddles up to spoon you. With the mild cramps and general discomfort of things, you appreciate his touch and you sigh and he then sighs in reply. 

“Good night. Thanks for the awesome date.” You say this as he nuzzles his nose into your neck and he leaves a little kiss.

“You are welcome. Thanks for being an awesome girlfriend.” He gives you a hug and there is a heavy silence between the two of you. 

You dig deep and rise to the occasion as you turn to face him partly. “Doctor James Wilson.” You say this and his brows become more serious as he looks at you with intensity in his eyes looking for an answer. You take a deep breath before continuing, “Thanks for being an awesome boyfriend.”

As the words leave your lips you feel as though something major has happened and it is okay. His beautiful dark brown eyes sparkle and he smiles at you broadly. He runs his left-hand through your hair on the right side of your face as he leans in for a simple, chaste kiss that conveys much more than just a quick peck.

“You are welcome.” And with that he settles onto his back and pulls you up so that your head is on his chest and you can hear his steady heartbeat. And with that the two of you drift off to sleep while Keith curls up making sure to touch the both of you through the blanket. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well that is all for now. Ending yet another chapter on some sweet sweet Wilson fluff. [sighs in covid induced loneliness]. 
> 
> I just can't stop the fluff. Anyone else a taro and coffee jelly bubble tea person? Sooo good. I think it shows how big of a coffee drinker I am with that flavor profile.
> 
> Also, Rothko. I was lucky to see an excellent exhibition of his works at the AGO and they were amazing in proper lighting. 
> 
> I'm gonna have to pick up the pace to get to the next part of things, but really, I just want to write about Wilson and House's Thanksgiving and if the reader will open up about her boyfriend or not to her family during the holiday. 
> 
> Need to generate some of that suspense and drama.


	15. busy busy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wilson and his girlfriend both are faced with extremely busy work weeks. The two of them balance how involved they are to be in the other person's life outside of dating. 
> 
> How much attention to you give to a new significant other? What type of distance to you maintain when both of you have demanding careers and are still dating seriously, but in the early stages? What can you ask or demand of them?
> 
> These are all questions that consume me when I've been in relationships as I try to balance work and the needs of the relationship. Honestly, I've sucked at this; I hope writing about it will help me gain insight into this conundrum. 
> 
> Warning, this is an excessively long chapter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd like to say that I took a haphazard guess at medical record keeping - the TV show made it clear that they used paper charts throughout the series, but I personally have had doctors (my GPs) transition from paper to electronic charts twice now. As with the eHealth chart, the idea was any doctor in the province could view my chart which makes sense, but with anything internet based, it requires the software and hardware to be working.
> 
> As a working biologist, we still use carbon copy for notebooks and various types biohazard tracking, so I made a leap to include medical charting papers that are based on carbon copy. What I wanted to highlight is that since both House and Wilson are older members at PPTH, they'd be more comfortable working with older methods of record keeping and immediately would know how to respond to not having electronic access. The show time and time again highlights using older technology to diagnose patients.
> 
> My INTJ self can't help but think about what you do in a situation where things go wrong. Don't even get me started on the illuminated street signs in my current city . . . me - what if the power goes out? Then the street signs are dark and they don't reflect headlights like traditional metal signs. What about first responders in that situation and their GPS is down or they aren't local? What then?????

Sunday morning starts early for you as Keith pokes you for breakfast and you have woken up to cramps. After feeding Keith his kibble, you proactively take ibuprofen, go to the bathroom and ‘freshen’ up before heading straight back to bed.

As you lift up the blankets to slide back under Wilson looks at you barely awake. “Everything alright?” he asks through sleepy eyes and messy hair.

“Yeah. Just fed Keith and took some ibuprofen which should help fairly soon.” You then snuggle up to Wilson under the covers and place your head on his chest as he sighs and his right hand wraps around your shoulders.

It is pretty much impossible for your cramps to go away that quickly but dozing in bed with Wilson seems to help with them. Or maybe it is his body heat acting like a giant therapeutic heating pad for your entire body. It really doesn’t matter as you slip into that half-awake state where you can feel things; Wilson’s warm body, his heartbeat, his arm on your shoulders and Keith as he snuggles up between both of your feet. It isn’t just nice, it feels amazing.

* * *

Wilson wakes up to the sound of a flushing toilet and he rolls over to see it is right before 7am and half of the bed is empty. He has to give it to Keith, that cat is like clockwork when it comes to breakfast. Feeling like he could sleep in more, he closes his eyes to go back to sleep and he only opens his eyes barely when she lifts up the blanket and sheet. 

Her body language seems a bit muted, a little off so he asks if everything is okay. She replies that she is and she fed Keith and took some ibuprofen since it is clear now it has to do with cramps. Wilson stops for a second to remember how lucky he is that he is a guy and not only does he have so many advantages but he also doesn’t have to deal with biology being so – painful – on a regular basis.

She surprisingly snuggles up to his chest and he instinctively lets out a sigh. He has to admit, this more hormonal side is kinda nice, or he right now thinks it is due to the hormones. Either way, he wraps his arm around her shoulders, and he listens as her breath becomes slower and more steady, before she drifts off just after Keith returns to bed to snuggle as well. Wilson doesn’t fall back asleep since his arm is stuck at a slightly awkward angle, but she looks so comfortable. He’s basking in the moment as he recalls last night; she called him her **_boyfriend_**. It has been a long time since that word made him feel so happy. Boyfriend. The word takes him back in when he was in high school and he dated a girl for part of his senior year. Many aspects of his youth have faded as time has passed but he can still recall when Michelle told him that he was her boyfriend during lunch between American History and before Physics. Has it been so long between relationships for him that giddiness is about to bubble up from him? Or this due to the fact that he has been carrying around the baggage from three failed marriages, a tragic event ending his last long term relationship, finally reconnecting with his lost brother and. And House going into rehab after all of these years of first trying to rationalize that his addiction was okay, that he could function, which then lead to House slowly spiraling out of control until he couldn’t get any worse.

His life and by extension many of his romantic relationships have suffered due to his friendship with House. Now that House has come out of rehab and has changed (as much as House may pretend that he hasn’t) he sees more and more changes in House that could only be the result of rehab and therapy. Wilson’s mind then starts to connect the dots that with House changing, it implies that Wilson is also going to change and will be able to approach relationships from a different way than before. House won’t need Wilson in quite the same way that he’s needed him before and he might, he just might have a shot at a different type of relationship.

At first, he doesn’t believe that he just got to this point, it would mean that his relationship with House will be different. He’s so used to House being, well, House. It is scary in a sort of odd way, where an outside observer would think that Wilson would be happy about this change in House, but part of it terrifies him. What if House doesn’t need him anymore in the future? Very unlikely based on House’s current behavior, but rehab was in the spring and it is the fall . . . he now calls of his poker night participants by their actual first names.

But this is what Wilson has always wanted from House. He doesn’t need him to completely change. The snark and wit are still there. House still solves cases and irritates most people. He still steals Wilson’s lunch and makes him buy his. The major difference is that House isn’t pushing things until they break, and he crashes down from a high nor is he at the mercy of the pills. If House can become the man that Wilson always wished his best friend could be, it also means that Wilson can’t rest on his laurels as well. 

Wilson will also have to grow as a person to meet his needs and responsibilities to his family and friends. If House can change, it means that he can too. He glances down at his girlfriend as she sleeps pressed up against him. It is all too clear to him even though he’s not quite awake, he’s in a relationship with potential, how will he not become distracted, disinterested, or distant? He doesn’t have a clear answer for this; perhaps he should talk to someone for perspective? A few years ago, he saw a therapist and took antidepressants for a while, but House gave him so much shit about it and he could never get a prescription that didn’t make him drowsy, a not great combination for a practicing doctor.

Finally, Wilson realizes that he has to get up or his bladder will have a strong statement with him soon. He extracts himself from the cat-girlfriend pile and makes his way to the bathroom. After lightening his load, he heads to the kitchen to make some coffee and see what she has for a potential lazy breakfast. He spies some maple syrup in the fridge in the door next to where the milk doesn’t belong, but he leaves it there since she’s a milk in the door kind of person. Not that he’s judging her. . .

She’s got a loaf of bread and plenty of eggs, and oh excellent, he thinks, some blueberries. French toast it is! After pouring the boiling water from the kettle into the French Press, he starts mixing up the eggs in a bowl and preps a plate for the cooked French toast to go on. The smell of coffee fills the kitchen and he’s engrossed in thought has he waits for the pan to heat up to proper temperature.

“Morning, whatcha making?” She enters the small kitchen, pours herself a cup of coffee and then sits down at the table across from him.

“French Toast! How many slices do you want?” he give her a smile as she looks at him holding the coffee cup between her hands. He thinks she is trying to wake up not only by drinking the coffee but by holding it close enough to her face she’ll perk up more.

She hesitates for a moment, “Eh, normally, I’d be all in favor of three slices, but my appetite isn’t great right now. Two maybe?”

He can tell she’s not feeling 100% so he smiles at her sweetly and quirks up an eyebrow to lighten things up a bit. “Two it is!” he turns away to melt a little bit of butter in the pan as he saturates two slices of bread in the egg mixture and then places them into the pan. When he turns back around to glance at her, she has a light trace of a smile and she’s put the coffee cup down on the table. Alright! It will be time for some fancy plating to nudge her into feeling a bit better.

Once he’s cooked both sides of the toast, he does his best to artistically place them on an empty plate. He adds a light drizzle of the maple syrup and then the blueberries on top. Turning around with the plate, he does his customer service smile as he places it down on the table before her. “Two pieces of French Toast topped with maple syrup and blueberries.”

He watches as she melts at the sight, “Aww, you already have put me to shame. They are fancier than what I could do.” She then looks up at him, “Come here you.” Wilson knows exactly what to do, he steps forward and leans down as he kisses her on the lips. He pulls back just a touch so that they are still close before he speaks.

“I’m glad you like them, but keep in mind you have to still taste them.” And he makes one of his shrugs as he ruffles his hair and he glances away from her gaze before looking back at her. It works wonderfully, as she blushes and looks away for a second.

“Oh, I’m sure they will taste good. You clearly have experience with making this.” She then cuts out a small piece and takes a bite. “Yep. Definitely edible. More than edible, they are good.”

Wilson beams and she slowly eats hers as he turns back around to make his own. He’s pretty hungry so he goes for three slices off the bat. With his ready, he sits down across form her at the small table and he enjoys them as are quiet while they eat. As she finishes hers, she pours herself another cup of coffee and puts the kettle on to likely make more soon.

Between his own mouthfuls of eggy-bready goodness he’s able to ask her if she like them. Sure enough, she seems much better already, and she does verify that they were good. He then toes out to see what her schedule is like for the next few weeks. Honestly, he’s curious if she’ll be around for Thanksgiving or not. Granted, he’s taking House to Cuddy’s place, but he’s pretty sure she’s not a Black Friday type of shopper.

“So, besides work for the next few weeks have you determined your plans for Thanksgiving?’ he is super casual about it as he finishes up his breakfast.

“I’m going home to visit my family. I’ll leave Tuesday night after work and I’m coming back on Saturday.” He’s a little bit disappointed she won’t be around, but he got the feeling she’s really happy to go home. 

He finishes off his cup of coffee before he continues the conversation along. “Ah, are you driving or flying? I’ll be here around town.”

“Flying. Which reminds me, I’m going to have to find a cattery to take Keith to. I’ll need to get on that later today!” As soon as she says Keith’s name he walks into the kitchen and stretches out with his fore paws down low and forward as his butt and tail stick up.

Before Wilson even realizes it, his emotions are far ahead of his brain, “I can take care of Keith for you!” Only after the words come out, does he realize that he is committing to take care of Keith when the department is just waiting for Liu to go into labor and switch to their new schedule to cover for her mat-leave.

Her facial expression changes subtly from a look of processing, to realization, to doubt, back to realization before settling on slight concern. “Are you sure? I mean you are busy with the clinical drug reviewer work and didn’t you say your one colleague is due to pop out a small human any day now?”

Wilson finds himself gesticulating with his hands as he speaks, “It will be fine. Even if I’m working the altered shifts, I will have enough time to feed Keith. You’d save money on boarding him and he already likes me.”

She tilts her head as she thinks things over. “Well, you did already take care of Keith in a pinch and he does like you. . . . I mean you could but only if you were okay with it.”

Wilson takes a sip of his coffee as he glances at Keith sitting on the floor, “Yeah, it really isn’t a problem.” She smiles at him as she messes with her hair before replying.

“Okay, if it isn’t too much for you.” And then she finishes her second cup of coffee and puts the dirty dishes on the counter. “I’m still not feeling 100%, going to get comfortable on the couch for a bit.” He doesn’t even need to read between that lines for that one. With that, both of them settle down onto the couch still in their pajamas and they somewhat watch random TV with only part of their attention on it and of course Keith joins in the snuggling.

Time seems to be on pause for them as they enjoy the warmth. It is a quiet and slow morning and Wilson really embraces it.

Losing track of time, he doesn’t even think about how long they’ve been there until his phone rings. It goes to voicemail and he takes his time before he checks it. As soon as he sees that it was from PPTH, he is jolted back to reality. The message is from Susan, Liu’s water just broke and she’s on her way to the hospital. The new oncology schedule goes into effect tomorrow; that means Sunday is the last day of ‘freedom’ and he’s got more errands to run today than he had a few minutes ago.

“What was that about? Work?” She yells at him from the couch while he heads back to the living room.

“Yep, looks like Liu is on her way to the hospital as her water just broke. I was hoping to have a full lazy Sunday with you, but I’ll be on our new schedule starting tomorrow. I need to run a few more errands this afternoon and I need to shower and get dressed.” He feels like he’s apologizing for doing his job. 

“No worries. I should be more productive myself as well. Go ahead and shower first, I’m going to be moving a touch slower than normal.” She says this calmly, and she’s not worried or concerned. If anything, she’s using it as a way to get herself to do things. 

Wilson ruffles his hair and looks at his feet before he approaches her on the couch from behind. “Thanks. This new schedule is going to keep me at work or on call a bit more, so I won’t be available until next weekend.” She nods to him and still seems really unconcerned. He ruffles his own hair in confusion as he shuffles off to the bathroom to shower and perform his optimized grooming routine. 

He packed light for today, only a change of underwear, shirt and socks as he puts on yesterday’s jeans and the McGill sweatshirt. Dressed and ready to go he finds her still laying on the couch with Keith. She sits up and he leans over the back of the couch towards her. “Hey, I’m off to do extra grocery shopping and cooking. I’ll touch base about the weekend once I have a better idea of things.” He then makes sure to kiss her and give her a hug.

“Okay. And if you are really busy, you can send me a text.” She smiles at him as she readjusts herself on the couch. “Have a good afternoon.”

Wilson can’t help but reply, so he sneaks another kiss on the cheek, “You too. I’ll talk to you soon-ish.” With that he’s collected most of his stuff and he’s out the door to pick up a few more ingredients and a list of ‘officially House approved’ homemade lunches. 

The rest of his afternoon is spent making two legume-based salads, a pot of curry and some fried chicken with roasted veggies. His counter is a small assembly line of reusable glass and ceramic containers that slowly get filled with healthy and balanced meals for him to eat (as well as House if he so desires). In the background classic Hollywood movies play in the background and he runs the load of dirty laundry that includes House’s clothing and a few of his items. It feels like the calm before the storm as he folds the clean clothing and he even puts House’s clean items into the dresser drawer where a few of his items live permanently.

The modified schedule has him covering a few of Liu’s patients so he’ll have more consults and thankfully Jones is taking most of her Clinic hours so he will only see an extra hour here and there. But it does mean he’ll have less flex time to deal with paperwork. To avoid the distraction that is known as House, he’ll have to get into the office earlier and he sets his alarm for 6 so that he can be in the office by 7:30 at the latest. All of this taken into consideration, he retires relatively early and even pulls out tomorrow’s outfit.

* * *

Sunday morning was pleasant. You felt absolutely spoiled by Wilson making French toast even though you are dealing with the early days of female annoyance of cramps and a decreased appetite. Even not feeling that hungry, the French toast was delicious, and it hit the spot. 

Wilson then asked you what your plans for Thanksgiving this year are. You were a little surprised since, you haven’t been seeing him that long and honestly, you are excited to visit your family with a much simpler travel itinerary, go to Newark airport and get a direct flight to home. The total travel time much less than the 3:30 am drive to the El Paso airport for a 6 something flight to DFW or ORD to make yet another connection to home from there. 

He covers it well, but you detect he’s a little disappointed you aren’t around for the holiday and in your opinion, it is a little early to attend social gatherings with him. 

The travel question does remind you that you need to find a cattery for Keith soon. Though Wilson quickly offers to take care of him. You are a little reluctant since, he did take care of him in a pinch, but Keith will be fine at a cattery for a few days. This doesn’t dissuade Wilson and he seems more than willing to help out and even uses the argument that you can save money. Interesting, since he’s clearly not the type of person who is worried about that; unless he’s picked up on your concern about finances. 

After hesitating, you figure you’ll accept his offer since Keith does really like him and if it makes him feel better while you are gone, you might as well take his offer. After finishing more coffee, you settle down on the couch in your pajamas and Wilson follows you. 

It is a nice lazy morning, the two of you lay on the couch as random programming is on TV and Keith falls asleep on both of you somehow. You still feel a little crampy but now it is just that blah feeling as monthly programmed cell death zaps your energy.

You are roused from the comfort as Wilson’s phone rings and he begins to stir. He carefully extracts himself and gets up to check his message. It is likely work and you yell to check in with him. Sure enough, his very pregnant colleague is on her way to the hospital and he states he’ll need to shove off soon to run a few more errands. It is all completely understandable and it might help you get more done. He then showers and dresses before he leans over the couch to sneak in a kiss or two before he leaves. It is all so – **_stereotypically_** him and it really reminds you that you still need to go grocery shopping and clean your bathroom.

Even though he’s much more of a phone call kinda guy, you let him know that texting is fine if he is too busy during the week. And with that he’s off and you peel yourself off of the couch to Keith’s annoyance and you hope the shower will motivate you to get a few things done. 

The grocery store is busier than normal, and you try not to be too annoyed by people comparing three different types of canned pumpkin puree, clearly for Thanksgiving in about two weeks. At least you can set up the crock pot for tomorrow and you are able to clean the bathroom before you head to bed early.

Monday morning starts off fine until your boss finds you, as she moves slowly in the cast. She’s heading in for surgery to fix that spiral fracture at PPTH on Wednesday and will be out through the next week at least. You are to fill in for her and carbon copy her on all of the meetings and important emails. On the outside you are calm. No big deal, you can do this. Internally, you are swearing up a storm as she adds you to all of her meetings. A once sparse on meetings calendar has auto-filled with twice the number of meetings and some of them have eaten into your open research times. You sigh as you’ll have to assign a technician to cover off a few experiments during those times. 

It is going to be a long two weeks, and Thanksgiving looks even better as a way to take a break away from work. You look forward to it and you remind yourself you just need to make it day by day though the next few weeks.

As you square things away with other staff, you find your Monday quickly over as you head home and make some meals in advance for later in the week since you will definitely be mentally exhausted once you take over for your boss on Wednesday.

Tuesday comes and goes, and Wednesday is a doozy as you pick up a much higher workload as things increase. You can’t believe how you feel on Wednesday evening as you put your key into the door and Keith meows at you excited for supper. Only another week and two days of this! So. Many. Meetings.

It is only when you find yourself laying on the couch with Keith and a cup of tea that you realize you haven’t heard from Wilson. You wonder if he’s swamped with work as well. As Keith dozes to your side, you decide to send a picture of him to Wilson. 

As discreetly as possible, you take a picture of him curled up next to your feet with his paw over his face. Keith does look totally adorable.

**_Hey, hope your week is okay. Here is a picture of Keith asleep on my feet._ **

And you send the text followed by the picture off to Wilson.

With that out of the way, you begin to get things ready for tomorrow, packing a lunch since you have a day full of meetings. You check your phone and see that there is still no reply from Wilson, but the chat also tells you that he definitely didn’t see it or read it. He must really be busy.

After showering, you check your phone one last time before you change it to night mode. Still no reply from Wilson but again he hasn’t read it yet. Ok. You aren’t going to over contemplate this – he is a doctor, who likely doesn’t carry his phone on him at all times and he can have a busy job.

You then go to bed around 10 and Keith joins you as you settle in. Again, that slight feeling of emptiness is around, but you also need to get sleep since tomorrow is going to be a long day.

Thursday morning, you are up early and require the power of coffee to get you out of the door. Interestingly, Wilson still hasn’t seen the text. Maybe you should call his office or something like that? Well maybe around lunch time. 

After several meetings, you are able to escape for a lunch break and you find a less busy break room to eat your lunch in quiet as you decompress from all the meetings (well a lot of meetings for you). You pull out your phone and find that you have two new messages. Wilson must have finally gotten back to you!

As you click on the message icon, the chat box pops up. The first message is a picture that takes a second to load. And – it is a picture of Wilson asleep on a couch in what appears to be an office and . . . you squint at it more closely it appears that someone has drawn a mustache on his face in black sharpie marker. Or you hope it is a sharpie marker since some of the other ones are even harder to get off . . .

What the fuck? You think to yourself as you already begin to have an idea whose idea this juvenile prank was.

The second message is a single period followed by an excessive number of spaces and then an incomplete statement.

**_Caring burnout_ **

You rub the back of your neck as you try to figure what this message means. The time stamp on it was from 9:12 this morning, while you were in meeting two of the day. Looks like Wilson is having a rougher day or days than you have.

Well, you don’t have time to call him right now and if Wilson is truly out cold due to exhaustion, you’d hate to wake him. After this afternoon’s meetings and a tiny bit of actual science you will give him a call.

Once you are free from the last meeting of the day and checking in on your plants, you find the time to check your phone again. There are no further messages from Wilson [House] and you decide to ring his office. A quick check of the Princeton-Plainsboro directory online allows you to easily find his office number.

It rings a few times before he picks up, and as soon as he says, “Doctor James Wilson,” you can hear the sheer exhaustion in his voice before he continues, “How can I help you?”

You then realize despite you feeling worn out, he’s definitely in much worse shape than you are.

“Oh, hello, it is just me. I was calling to see if you are okay. I got an interesting text from House.” You try to be as nonchalant as possible.

Wilson sputters, “You what? Wait? Where is my phone?” and there is some shuffling and you can tell Wilson has moved his hand to cover the receiver so that he can speak to someone close by. You still hear a muffled angry voice in the background, “House! What the fuck did you do with my phone! Where is it? Did you message my girlfriend? How did you get my passcode!” You are unable to hear a reply but after a few moments, he returns to the call with you.

“Sorry about that, it appears that House is the one who swiped my phone. I hope he didn’t send you anything horrifying.” You can almost hear the sound of his eyes rolling over the line.

“Oh, no. It isn’t anything too terrible. Though you may want to wash your face.” You try not to laugh as you begin to find House’s prank just a little amusing.

“My face? HOUSE!” Wilson says this before he covers the phone receiver and then you can hear a roar of laughter in the room.

“I gotcha sooooo good this time Jimmy!” House is a bit muffled, but it is clear that only now has Wilson realized that he hasn’t seen his face since he woke up.

There is a huge sigh on the line as he uncovers the phone receiver again. “Hey, I have a favor to ask, I’m still stuck at work until about 9 tonight – it is a long story. Can you pick up some take-out supper for me?” Wilson seems tired and there is a sense of annoyance in his voice.

“Sure, I guess I could do that. What do you want me to get?” The idea of food sounds really good as your stomach begins to rumble and, you may get some for yourself as well.

A happy sigh is heard over the phone as Wilson replies, “Oh thank you so much.” In the background you can hear House again, “Wilsoooon, tell your girlfriend to get me the tikka masala curry with chicken from Bombay and a samosa.”

This time Wilson doesn’t even cover the receiver, “House, for the love of god, she’s not your errand girl.”

House immediately retorts back, “No, she’s not, she’s **_yours_**. Therefore, by extension since she will be bringing you take-out, I can ask her to pick up take-out for myself as well!” 

There is a huge, exhausted sigh from Wilson . . . “Hey, if it is okay with you, can you pick up take-out for myself and - for House?”

You find yourself smiling as it becomes clear why someone like Wilson could survive being friends with House. “It is fine. Tell me what you want, and I’ll place the order before I leave work and I’ll get it to you as soon as possible. Just tell me where I can park when I arrive.”

And with that, you are relayed an order for chicken tikka masala, a single samosa, vegetarian biryani, a side of dal, extra raita and exactly two packages of the mint chutney. You decide on a small combo platter with dal, aloo gobi, spinach paneer, and chana masala.

Once out of work and in your car, you place the rather complex order and head to Bombay to pick it up and relay it to Princeton-Plainsboro.

Thankfully, Wilson gave you directions to public parking and you make your way into the main entrance with two arms full of take-out at about quarter till seven. The lobby is a large atrium with murals and a central desk. As you enter, the Clinic is dark, closed for the day and the Dean of Medicine’s office still has the light on as the very intense Doctor Lisa Cuddy appears to be working on some sort of paperwork.

A staff directory is near the elevators and it gives you the number for Wilson’s second floor office. Upon exiting the elevators, you quickly locate Wilson’s office, it even has his name and department information on the door! Fancy. Arms full, you manage to knock while kicking with your feet before you hear a shout of “Its open!” from Wilson.

Unable to open it as you balance things, you are forced to yell back your hands are currently full, and Wilson opens the door. His hair is a complete mess, and his tie is loosened with his shirtsleeves rolled up to his elbows and his face relaxes as he sees you with the huge amount of food.

“Thank you!” he then leans in to take on of the bags from your hands before he sneaks in a kiss on the cheek, “We are starving and I’m not sure the last time I’ve been able to sit down at eat uninterrupted.”

It is only as he steps back and puts the take-out containers on his desk that you see House half-awake on a couch in his office, who looks about as exhausted and disheveled as Wilson. House springs up in a rather robotic fashion, sniffing the air before he turns to look at both of you with wide bright blue eyes. “I smell – curry!” and with that House is moving his stiff leg into an upright position and he eyes the take-out containers.

Wilson begins to unpack the bags and checks each container to determine what is what. He finds House’s chicken tikka masala, rice and samosa which House lay out on the couch next to him. You pull out the plasticware and hand over a few napkins and fork and spoon over to House who accepts them with a nod and a grunt.

At the same time Wilson is setting up his container of biriyani and his side of dal and he settles in behind his desk. You notice he pulled a chair up to his desk and your small platter order is already set for you with everything set to go and an empty coffee cup.

“House, catch!” Wilson makes a fast statement as you watch as he boldly tosses not one, but both of the small containers of mint chutney in rapid succession. He then turns to you, “Oh sorry, I just pulled out a clean mug, I don’t have any water in the office.” You then notice a cup of what appears to be half consumed lukewarm coffee on his part of the desk.

“Oh, ah no problem. Where is the drinking fountain?” You are already holding the mug while you ask him.

Instead of Wilson replying, House answers instead, “Just grab some water from the Diagnostics office down the hall. Turn left and it is the next office on your left. If the kiddies are in, you can just say I sent you. If not, the office door is unlocked.”

You look at House and then glance quickly back at Wilson, to confirm that House isn’t giving you a hard time. Wilson smiles slightly and nods. With that you head out of the office to find the Diagnostics' Department office. It is shockingly close; it is literally the next office down with glass fishbowl walls. The light is on and there is a huge mess on the table; papers, reference texts, leftover take-out containers and coffee cups are strewn about. You open the door and spot a sink in the corner with a small fridge and a pitcher full of water. 

As you turn around to exit, the door swings open and House’s team enters looking exhausted. A shorter man with a receding hairline is the first to speak, “Hello, um – can we help you?” as you start to speak, “Oh, House told me,” but it is then that Chase enters at the rear of the group wearing light green surgical scrubs and a look of complete exhaustion while the rest of the team members are still wearing their whitecoats.

“Hey! Nice to see you again.” Chase despite looking completely knackered still summons a cheerful greeting.

“Oh, it is nice to see you. Pardon me saying so, but all of you guys look like shit, as well as House and Wilson. What happened?” Your question falls on confused faces. The first man replies first with a bit of snark as he examines you.

“There was a multiple car pile-up on I-95 yesterday and we’ve been helping out in the ER and surgery on top of everything else.” He then tilts his head with sass, “And on top everything else, we have a case which is not making much sense.” He then shrugs his shoulders and walks by you to the coffee maker. 

Feeling really awkward you slowly float towards the door. “Ah, yeah, I’m going to head out now. Sorry for interrupting.” And you as stealthily as possible make your way to the door and feel the intense gaze of the three other doctors besides Chase who is nonchalantly making another pot of coffee. Interestingly, Doctor Hadley, who has the nickname of Thirteen, has a look of understanding while the two you haven’t met formally, seem to be trying to determine who and what you actually are, and that House would send you into their office.

Walking as rapidly as possible as to not spill the water from the mug, you make your way back to Wilson’s office which now is filled with the scent of curry and spices. House is sitting on the couch eating the curry in silence and Wilson is inhaling his biryani which apparently has been covered in as much raita as possible. Realizing you are also starving; you settle down and eat your platter in silence as the three of you consume as much food as possible without ill-after effects.

After a few minutes of the soft and periodic sounds of chewing and cheap plastic utensils, House finally speaks. “Aaaawwww damn. That really hit the spot.” He looks a little bit more put together, yet it is clear his t-shirt is from yesterday as there is a large sweat stain so, House is just a much of a wreck as Wilson.

Wilson nods along still eating. Mhhmmmm is all he can contribute to the conversation while masticating. He turns to you and wipes his mouth with a napkin before speaking. His eyes get that soft chocolate sparkle when he looks at you, “Thanks so much. I, no, we really appreciate it.” You look away not wanting to get the full Wilson eye treatment.

The moment is quickly broken by House, “Oh, for the love of god, get a room the two of you!” despite his attempt to sound harsh you hear more teasing than annoyance in his words.

Feeling more alive and coherent by the food you tease back, “Gosh darn it! You saw through my evil plans to take Wilson here on his desk! The moral police should thank you for your service against indecent office sex.”

The comment then results in two distinct events; Wilson starts laughing at House while House’s mouth opens and closes while his eyes dart around in a brief moment of shock and being unable to retort anything back.

House tries to shake it off, but his eyes lock with Wilson’s across the office and he starts to giggle and before it he’s laughing as hard as Wilson who is tearing up and you find yourself giggling a little along.

“Phew!” Wilson speaks as he takes a few calming breaths before he continues, “Well, that was rather unexpected. I’d normally be up for some shenanigans, but I’m still wearing yesterday’s clothing and when I can clock off of this shift, I have only the eyes for my bed. Sorry.”

He looks at you with this quiet expression of total exhaustion and consideration. 

“Feel that burn!” both of you turn to watch House as he pours some of the mint chutney on his samosa. No, scratch that, he’s pouring the entire package on half of the samosa. No wonder he wanted two containers; he’s drowning his samosa in a flood of chutney!

Once House finishes his samosa, he collects his small spread of containers and begins to stack them rather haphazardly before he slowly stands and limps over to the desk to place them in the used bag. Tidied up in what House feels is a sufficient fashion he picks up his cane next to the couch and heads out the office door.

“Time to go check in with my kiddies and with my patient as well before I head out in a bit. Night.” House says this mainly looking at Wilson, but his clear blue eyes flicker to you for a moment as he leans into the door handle as it swings open.

Wilson looks up at House under his frazzled hair and thick heavy eyebrows as he leans forward on his desk. “Don’t keep them here too late. I’ll see you tomorrow morning.” And you catch this look again between the two men. They have this quiet moment of connection between the two of them where their eyes soften and it is so obvious that they have a deep relationship. You see your own relationship with your best friend reflected in their eyes – if that even makes any sense.

With House out of the office you turn to look at Wilson. Man, he looks terrible, there are huge bags under his eyes, his hair is sticking out at odd angles and you can tell his shirt has absorbed a lot of sweat and stress.

“It is just around 7:15. How much longer did you say you had before you could head home?” You stand up from the chair as you begin to organize all of the remaining take-out trash. 

Wilson stands up from his desk and walks around to help you with tying the bags up. “Hey, don’t worry about that right now.” As he says this, he steps behind you and his arms snake around your waist and he pulls himself close to you and his head hangs over your right shoulder. The odor of his exhaustion surrounds you; the slightly greasy hair, only the light note of his spicy cologne remains, predominantly replaced by musk and stale sweat. Even though he absolutely reeks you relax at his embrace since you’ve had a busy day (though clearly nothing like his).

“Come here.” Wilson says this quietly as he pulls you to his couch and you sit down next to him. Wordlessly, he shifts so that his head is in your lap as he lays across the rest of the couch. “I have to do my last set of rounds at 8. Until then, just let me be, right here.”

You nod to him and he settles into a position which he finds more comfortable. He closes his eyes and your idle fingers find their way into his hair as you gently play with it half-aware. Within a few minutes, his breathing shifts to slower and deeper; he’s fallen asleep and you are able to look on his face in this moment of vulnerability and trust.

Only then do you have the time to look at his office closely and you silently examine his vintage movie posters, dark wood shelves, random knick-knacks, trophies, reference texts, binders and all of his degrees framed and displayed on the wall. Each and every one of these items and their display makes sense to you; Wilson’s office looks like what you would expect from a man who puts forth a certain public image. Even the small throw pillow with the medical symbol of the caduceus on it seems like something he’d have for people to see when they enter his office.

Gazing idly on his sleeping face, forces you to stifle a yawn of your own. His face is a contradiction, one part of it shows a youthful innocence which comes out as his charming friendly nature. The other part is harder to see at first, it lingers like whisper of a shadow that has stuck to him for some time. He has not only observed many different challenges and hardships in his patients, peers and others, he has lived through a fair number of them as well. They are the emotional scars that have come to the surface when he’s unable to consciously control his expression; he hides them from most other people though you are certain that one other person has seen this side of him. 

Upon this epiphany, you gently stroke the side of his face and he begins to stir. After a loud yawn he turns over so that he’s looking up at you and lying on his back. His sweet side is back; he looks at you with an extreme tenderness, “Hey. Thanks for staying with me.” He then reaches for your hand and he holds it with his left as he smiles at you while giving it a good squeeze. You nod and looking into his eyes, you see something deeper, intense, more emotional than you’ve seen in anyone’s eyes ever. The underlying emotion makes you nervous and you struggle to find a reply that takes the intensity down a notch.

“No problem. It isn’t a big deal.” You try to look at him as calmly as possible. The smile on his face is genuine and he looks at you and the power behind his dark brown eyes isn’t abating, it is becoming even stronger. He sighs and looks like he is about to say something, when all of a sudden an alarm goes off under the couch. 

Wilson sits up and then reaches under the couch to find his phone and stops the timer. Wearily, he looks at you, “House appears to have set my alarm for 7:50 so I can start my shift on time and I’ve found my missing phone.”

You then stand up to begin to collect your things, “I should head home, I still have a full day of work tomorrow.”

Wilson also stands with uneven shoulders in a bit of a shrug as he walks over to put on his white coat. Fastidiously, he tightens his tie, and checks that his pocket protector is even with several pens in it before he puts his pager on his belt.

“Leave the empty take-out containers. I’ll deal with them on my way out later. Let me walk you back to the entrance and I’ll start my last set of rounds.” Wilson is walking towards you to herd you out with his left hand on the small of your back.

“Okay. Thank you.” and in a few minutes you’ve put all of your outerwear on and Wilson leads you past the Department of Diagnostic Medicine, where the main office is still a mess but only Thirteen and the handsome black man remain. Connected to it is House’s office now dark and you are unable to see all of his knick-knacks, but no degrees are framed and displayed on his wall.

Back in the main atrium, the light is still on in Cuddy’s office and Wilson glances over at it with friendly concern. At the main doors he then turns to give you a hug good-bye. “Thanks, so much for helping out. It meant a lot.” 

You give him a good squeeze and get one last sniff of his stinky yet attractive self. “Not a problem. You make sure you get home safely after this. Text me when you get home okay?” Your voice carries even more concern than you intend, surprising even yourself.

“I will.” Wilson then leans down for a slow, intimate kiss. As he pulls away from the kiss, he gives you one last hug and his lips whisper in your ear quietly, “I’ll see you tomorrow night. Love you.” and in that single moment your entire body feels overwhelmed and exhausted. You are almost frozen for a moment as he drifts away, and it is almost in slow motion as you watch him walk back toward the elevators. The coat flutters behind him as his large yet smooth stride shows his confidence and fit within his job. Wilson is a person who is truly lucky to have a job which brings out his best talents.

In a daze of awe and nervousness at his confession, you turn and head back to your car. Keith is overjoyed to see you as you enter and feed him a late supper and quickly get ready for work tomorrow. 

After showering and about to head to bed you hear the single ping of an incoming text message.

**_I’m home now. Feed Keith supper tomorrow night before heading over to my place. See you tomorrow evening._ **

A huge feeling of relief overwhelms you as you didn’t even realize you were holding your breath and you head to bed with Keith following closely behind you.

* * *

Wilson’s Monday starts off exactly how he anticipated. He woke up earlier, showered, dressed in the clothing he selected the night before and was out the door by 7am. Morning Edition fills his cool car as he runs the heater on low in the chill of the early light. The lighter traffic reminds him that there are some benefits to getting up earlier, namely the speed at which he arrives at PPTH and he observes the hushed sounds of the day just starting.

After dropping off his briefcase and coat in his office, he makes his first stop Susan’s office. She was the one who called him yesterday and she’ll be the most up to date on Liu’s current status. Well not quite the first stop will be Susan’s office as he goes to the small shop to pick up a cup of coffee for her. Steaming hot beverage in hand, he knocks on her door as he greets her with a friendly “Good Morning Susan.”

Susan looks up from her seasonally decorated office, now with a Thanksgiving theme of turkeys, pumpkins, corn cobs and fall foliage (oak, maple, birch). She’s got her hair tied up in a bun and is sporting a seasonally appropriate mustard yellow cardigan over a white dress shirt, a red maple leaf pin, dark brown dress pants and (even Wilson has to admit it) adorable clogs that are fall themed.

“Oh, good morning Doctor Wilson! Did you hear the news? Doctor Liu just gave birth to a healthy baby boy at 5:30 this morning.” She looks very excited and relived.

“I have not, that’s why I came by to see you first. You are the person who knows the most about the department. That’s great to hear, I’ll swing by to congratulate her after my morning paperwork.” As soon as Wilson speaks, he watches as Susan beams with happiness at his compliment. Rule number one to having an excellent department – treat your secretaries like they are gods. Wilson then continues, “I’m sure you’ve been in the office very early today getting everything ready as well as sending out an announcement to the department about Liu’s kid. I brought you some coffee to help you with the rest of the morning.” Wilson then shrugs a little for emphasis, “Even though it is only 7:15 in the morning!”

Susan accepts his coffee with a tired but large grin and a giggle, “Oh, you couldn’t be more correct Doctor Wilson! Well, this is very thoughtful of you! Thank you very much. Is there anything I can help you with?”

Wilson then gets down to business, “Yes, just one simple thing, I just need a time to meet with Smith and Jones either today or tomorrow so we can discuss our schedule for the time being. You’ve done a lovely job making sure we cover all of our Clinic hours and on call times, but now that we are on our reduced staff, we just need a meeting to coordinate for our own patients.”

After taking a sip of the coffee, Susan turns to her computer monitor while looking back at Wilson, “Oh not a problem, I’ll look at all three of your schedules and send a note to add to each of your calendars electronically by 9am today.”

Wilson smiles as he looks at her seated at her desk. “Thanks so much Susan. I’ll see you later!” he then turns to head back to his office to do approval paperwork, his most hated of all of his tasks.

To make things less painful he puts on some of his older swing CDs and starts into the pile of paperwork that just needs his signature. The music clearly helps as when he finally heads to the bathroom for a break, his senses are jarred by the hustle and bustle in the hallway. Most people are now in and he needs to stay on top of things before House comes to derail him. Granted, he isn’t opposed to House distractions _per se,_ but sometimes they really are ill timed for him.

When he returns to the office, his calendar has a new message indicating that the meeting with Smith and Jones will be tomorrow at 9:15. That should work out perfectly! The next few hours are filled with paperwork and he’s signed enough documents that he has the ink stain on his left pinky finger to prove it. Feeling okay with his progress, he goes to the Maternity ward to visit Liu and her newest family member.

As he approaches her room he knocks softly as he notices her husband is asleep in a nearby small couch. Wilson tip toes in as she looks up from a medical journal.

Barely speaking above a whisper, he greets her, “Hey, I had a few minutes to swing by. I wanted to say congratulations.” 

Liu smiles at him as she places the open journal face down on her lap. “Thank you very much. Alexander is going through all of the basic tests and should be back here in about an hour or so.” She is tired but more relaxed than he’s seen her for the past few weeks. Wilson isn’t one to pry, but he could tell that she worked hard towards the end even though she didn’t need to, and he appreciated it.

Wilson quietly pulls over a stool to sit next to her. “So, how are you feeling? This is your first kid correct?” he never wants to presume anything of anyone, but his observations of Liu seemed to point to this being her first child with her excitement and dedication to getting things right.

Liu nods, “Yes. He is my first child.” She pauses as she seems to wrestle with a concept try to express it clearly in her exhaustion, “I realized something throughout all of this, even though we are doctors and we know on paper how all of this works, experiencing it doesn’t even come close to what we learned. I also think more female doctors need to edit the textbooks for greater details.” She follows that statement with a soft laugh.

Wilson smiles as he pats her shoulder gently, “How did Mark do?” and he makes sure to nod to her husband out cold in the room.

A soft giggle escapes from her, “Mark did well. He was with me the entire time and put so much energy into it. That’s why he’s asleep now, he was in overdrive from when we got into the car to head here until they took Alex out to be checked.”

Wilson’s gaze briefly drops down before he looks back at her, “Well, I am glad to hear everything went well. We’ll miss you, but enjoy your full mat-leave, that you will taking.”

Just then a nurse enters with her son bundled up in a small blanket. “Doctor Liu, everything is excellent. All tests show he’s 100% normal and he weighed in at 8 pounds 5 ounces.”

Liu’s face lights up as she takes her son into her arms. “Hello there Alex. How are you?” this is Wilson’s cue to exit stage left. He gives her shoulder a good squeeze and smiles at her and looks at her tiny human, that she just gave birth to.

She looks at up at him with a light in her eyes and she smiles so softly and nods to him. Wordlessly, he walks out as he catches movement from Mark as he wakes up. Just before he leaves the ward, Wilson turns around to catch Mark now sitting on the stool next to her as they look with such awe at their child. 

Today is an excellent day; Wilson thinks this as he sees the love in that small hospital room.

He takes the long way back to his office, walking by House’s office first. House is at his computer focused on something and doesn’t notice Wilson as he walks by. This immediately makes him think that there must be a case and in the main room, the full team is discussing a differential on the whiteboard rather animatedly.

The rest of the morning is filled with paperwork which he almost completes before noon. Interestingly, House hasn’t come tumbling into his office and if the case is really exciting House, there is the possibility that House is too distracted (well, more like too focused) and will forget to eat.

Wallet in pocket, Wilson walks over to House’s office and hangs in the doorway while House is scrolling through PubMed with an intensity that his eyes could bore two holes into the monitor.

“Hey, lunch?” Wilson asks ‘their’ question, that isn’t ever an actual question. House turns his head to him while his hands are still on the keyboard and mouse.

“Where have you been? It is 12:05. I’m suddenly quite hungry.” House makes his ‘meh’ face at Wilson while he turns to stand up and grabs his cane.

Wilson can’t help but snark back, “I believe the term for what you are feeling is described as ‘hangry’.” He holds the door open as House exits before he turns to quickly catch up to his side as they head down to the cafeteria.

Lunch is as expected, House steals his fries and he begins to overwhelm Wilson with the facts of the current case. It quickly becomes apparent that this is one of House’s major puzzle cases where symptoms contradict each other and finding the connection seems almost preposterous between everything. Wilson always knows that these cases are a double-edged sword for House; they both excite him intellectually, but if he is stuck for too long, he becomes a complete pain in the ass to deal with. The other issue with these cases is, the more stumped House becomes, the more clingy he’ll become with Wilson. House will hope for Wilson to say something which allows him to connect all of the dots.

Thankfully, Wilson has Clinic duty at 1:30 and he’s able to leave House behind in the café as he fiddles with several straw wrappers. The rest of Monday is alright. He knows by the end of the week he’ll be tired since he needs to cover off extra shifts and see a few extra patients, but he thinks it will be okay.

After watching a nature documentary, he showers, pulls out clothing for tomorrow and prepares for Tuesday. As he drifts off to sleep, he feels a slight pang of emptiness in his bed, but she’s just a busy as he is this week. This will be best and his last thought was, tomorrow will be fine.

* * *

Tuesday morning starts out similar to the day before. He gets in early and settles into his meeting with Smith and Jones. The three of them double and then triple check all of their patients plus the files that they have picked up from Liu. Wilson reflects on how each of them have very different personalities, but his gut really likes the dynamics of the team. To help Jones settle in, they both agree to be present with she meets the patients from Liu that she will be covering. Wilson will be with her this morning and Smith will help out this afternoon.

Before they are about to start, Wilson makes sure to buy her a tea, since she is not a coffee person. They chat about banal things as they walk into the first patient’s room and Jones smiles as she walks in with a chart. “Hello there, Ms. Michelle Lee. I’m Doctor Martha Jones and I will be taking care of you while Doctor Liu is on maternity leave.” Jones then gestures to Wilson hanging a few steps back, “And this is Doctor Wilson, I’m sure you know is the Department Head of Oncology here at Princeton-Plainsboro. He and Doctor Smith are accompanying me on all of my new patient introductions.” Wilson nods to Ms. Lee and replies with a polite, “Good Morning.” This keeps the focus on Jones so she can establish her relationship with all of these patients.

Wilson watches how Jones is friendly, but polite as she shakes Lee’s hand. Lee looks cautiously at her at first and her eyes briefly, just for a millisecond, look at Wilson as he smiles softly. Lee then replies, “Nice to meet you Doctor Jones. You can just call me Michelle.” With the first major hurdle overcome, Jones pulls up a stool so sit next to her first patient as they chat for a few minutes. Wilson leans back into the wall as he holds a pile of patient files across his chest and his whitecoat scrunches up against the wall.

After Jones has connected with the patient, they head to the next room and the process repeats itself. On the fourth patient, a nurse rushes into the room unexpectedly. “Doctor Wilson! We’ve got a huge problem!” It is the young male nurse who has a crush on him; Wilson quickly works to get him out of the room before he spooks the patient. Looking back at Jones he tries to beam his intent into her mind, which it seems she gets. She turns back to her current patient to state things are okay and what where they just talking about? The fact that she did her initial medical training in London . . .

Wilson thanks her profusely in his mind while he uses his large lanky figure to get the exited nurse out into the hallway and shuts the door before, he blurts out anything else to scare the patients.

“Okay, take a deep breath and tell me what this problem is exactly?” Wilson uses his most serious face on the nurse, and he watches as he takes a shaky inhale but calms down on the exhale.

“We are having issues with the electronic charting software. The entire system just went down and everyone is scrambling to try to figure out how to access the most current patient information. We still have the charts with the patients, but we don’t have remote access to coordinate between the individuals in the room and those prepping medications outside.”

Wilson lets the information sink in piece by piece. He can’t think about each patient individually, he needs to think about his entire department, so he is very articulate in his reply. “This isn’t as large as a problem as you think it is. If we deal with this right now calmly and orderly, it will be fine.”

The young nurse still looks worried but relaxes as he hears Wilson’s reassuring words. “I need you to do two things for me; one, page Smith so that Jones and I can go pick something up for the department; two, tell Brenda in the Clinic that I will meet her outside of the office supply room in the basement in ten minutes. Got it?” 

The young nurse nods before he repeats it, “Page Smith and have Brenda meet you at the office supply room in the basement.” With that he runs off to the main nursing control station and Wilson quickly enters the room to grab Jones. Thankfully, she was just wrapping up and Wilson’s concerned eyebrows communicate enough information to her that she knows they are dealing with whatever the ‘crisis’ is.

A few minutes later, Smith meets them at the main desk in Oncology and Wilson tells him to meet them at the office supply room with a cart. Smith nods and sprints off to get a cart. 

“Good job there with the patient when that nurse rushed in.” Wilson tells this as Jones walks with him, not quite sure why they are getting office supplies for some sort of ‘crisis’. 

Jones just shrugs, “Not a problem. You are a very articulate individual even when you don’t use words. You have very similar eyes to Smith. What is the issue?”

Wilson stops with her outside of the closet as Smith can be heard wheeling a squeaky cart to the office supply room door. “Our electronic records system is down, or inaccessible or something like that. We are going to copy our records for easy duplicate copies the old way.”

The sound of footsteps approaches as Brenda is followed by House’s entire team, including House.

“Hello Brenda! Thanks for coming on such short notice.” Wilson smiles as she glances back towards House with an annoyed expression. “Not a problem Doctor Wilson. I really shouldn’t be surprised that the two of you were the first departments to come to the same solution with our current computer problems.”

“Hey, my team gets dibs on things first!” House yells this playfully as Brenda unlocks the room to reveal an office supply room full of ‘outdated’ items. Overhead projectors, transparencies, rolls for lectures, slide carousels are all stacked up neatly on shelves and in open cabinets.

Wilson can’t help but play back with House, “Well that may be your opinion House, but my team brought a cart.” He points to Smith pushing the cart in with a lopsided grin on his face as his dark brown eyes look excited. Smith then speaks to Wilson, “How many reams do you want Wilson? I’m sure three will be more than enough for us.”

Wilson turns to watch House’s face as he notices that his team hasn’t figured out what the solution to the charting issue is yet. House rolls his eyes and dramatically sighs at his team, “Come on guys, how come Wilson’s team **_already_** knows what **_he needs_**?” House then turns to them and glares. Taub just crosses his hands across his chest in annoyance while Chase looks excited and confused that he was supposed to read House’s mind. Foreman and Thirteen both look at each other and sigh.

Just wanting to rub it in, Wilson makes sure to up his golden boy image, “Three reams should be more than enough for Oncology, Smith, but let’s pick up a case for the Clinic and drop off a case in the Mat-ward.”

Smith and Jones then load two cases onto their cart as well as opening a case to pull out three more reams. “Gotcha. It has been a long time since I’ve used you – carbon copy paper! I feel so young again!” Smith is excited as Jones smiles at him. 

Wilson and his team then exit with their carbon copy paper to get all of the charts copied off and distributed between the nurses and doctors. He lingers back a bit to stop by House leaning into his cane as he yells at his team to carry as many as possible back to the office. Taub and Thirteen are overloaded and both gripe that a cart would have been an excellent idea.

House leans into his cane further in Wilson’s direction, “It was my idea first to get the old carbon copy paper charts.” Feeling smug Wilson tilts a knowing gaze towards House with his hands briefly on his hips pushing his coat back a bit, “Yeah, but I’m sure I paged Brenda first.”

House’s reply is an over dramatic “Pppffffftttt! Being polite doesn’t always get what you want.”

“Yet, when you are polite, it yields dividends.” Getting that last word in, Wilson turns on his heel and makes sure that House can see the dramatic flutter of his whitecoat as he exits with his team.

Carbon copy charts in hand, Wilson pages half of his nursing staff in first to distribute them and start the transfer of information over to hard copies and duplicates for the time being. Once that group is assigned their task, he keeps the rest of the staff checking on patients and he finally has a chance to swing by Susan’s office. 

Susan looks like a total mess; she’s got several calls on hold and she moves the phone receiver down to speak to Wilson. “I just got a call from Princeton General; it seems all the hospitals from Princeton to Trenton who use the same charting software are down.”

Wilson smiles at her, “Thanks. That’s good to know. Right now, we have everything under control, we are using carbon copy charts to duplicate and distribute all patient files for the time being. Any information from the software provider?”

Susan makes a grimace, “Ugh, no, I’ve been on hold with them for at least – thirty five minutes and every time I try to call from my cell, I get an automated message that systems are down in New Jersey and they will have things up and running again shortly.”

Wilson ruffles his hair as he looks at his shoes. “Well, that is **_convenient_**. Keep trying. We also took more charts to the Mat-ward and the Clinic so we will be okay for the time being.”

Finally making a less tense smile, Susan replies, “Will do. I’ll page you if things get more complicated.”

With Susan’s additional information, Wilson heads back to his department and joins in with the nurses along with Smith and Jones going from room to room transferring over all of the current chart information onto the carbon copy paper. They leave the original in the room and tear off the carbon copy which then get collected in the central nursing station. This allows the other nurses on duty to check the carbon copy before they prep medication and treatments.

When they are finally done with the charts, Wilson makes sure to have the message sent out to the evening shift of nurses what the current protocol will be for the rest of the day. His stomach growls loudly and it is then he glances at his watch to see it is 1:15. Before heading to his office to eat the lunch he packed, he pops his head into Smith’s office. “Hey, just want to say excellent thinking. You really gave me the one up with House.” Wilson can’t help but grin and ruffle his hair after thanking his colleague for making his best friend jealous.

Smith moves from a focused position at his computer and very animatedly turns to prop his bright red Converse shoes on his desk piled with towers of articles. “Oh, not a problem. Anything to help out.” Smith then looks up wistfully, “Plus, I’m always in favor of any sort of fun antics.”

Smith’s positive and fun energy makes Wilson blush a bit, “Yeah, you certainly are. Well, I have patient consults and then I should check in with Cuddy, if we don’t hear back from the software manufacturer soon. Tell Jones she rocked this morning.”

“Certainly; will do! We usually enjoy a cup of tea around 4, so I’ll tell her then.” And as suddenly as Smith was leaning back in his chair with shoes on the desk, he in a fluid motion, moves back to his computer to print off some paperwork.

After a quick lunch, Wilson heads down to Cuddy’s office where she is glaring at her computer screen while she has a phone between her ear and shoulder. The amount of anger that is emanating from her can be felt as soon as he walked into the office.

“Computer system is still down?” Wilson asks it almost quietly as she looks at him trying to soften the rage clouding her usually clear teal eyes.

Her facial expression tells him everything, and she then speaks firmly into the phone, “I understand that you have a hardware issue that you are dealing with right now. But I must make it clear that your software which I pay thousands of dollars a year to use is currently not functioning and your customer service staff are simply ignoring all efforts to contact them. Additionally, you could just post updates online and using social media if you don’t want every hospital calling you non-stop.”

Cuddy’s facial expression becomes one of complete disgust as she listens to whatever the reply to her statement is. With her most professional anger that she can summon, Cuddy replies, “Let me be very clear to you. If this issue is not resolved by the end of today and I continue to be prevented from learning updates of the status of your support system, I will switch to using another software package for charting and I will make sure that our lawyer will review our current software contract with you for any breaches that may lead to negative consequences for hospital operations. Do you understand?”

Concluding with that statement of pure power, Cuddy places the phone down on the base and he can hear the audible click of her hanging up the phone. Wilson then notices that goosebumps have run down along his bare arms as the power of Cuddy’s reply had hit even him, an innocent bystander.

He shakes himself briefly while she places her hands over her eyes for a minute before she looks back up at Wilson much calmer.

“Well, that makes it clear we still don’t know when our software will be back up and running. I already switched my department back to the old paper charts and we dropped them off at the Mat-ward and Clinic as well.”

Cuddy smiles a little as she leans back in her chair. “Good job. I heard from Brenda that you and House both sprang into action and dug out all the extra old office supplies.” She looks away for a moment as she hesitates, “I’m glad I kept all of our old stuff instead of scrapping it. With House and you around, we’ll always have some institutional memory of how to do things where done before the magic of online everything. I’ll keep all the department heads updated on the status of the software. You’ll be paged when I have more news.”

Wilson feels nice, it is rare to get a compliment from Cuddy. Sure, she clearly trusts him as a person and a department head, but he’s always in the shadow of House’s genius in her eyes. It feels nice to be seen as equal to House in Cuddy’s opinion. ‘Cause again, that weird dynamic between House and Cuddy that neither of them explain.

“Thanks. I appreciate it. My team is exhausted from the extra work today. I’m going to make sure all of us get some rest in case things are still weird tomorrow.” With that he shoves his hands in his pockets and gently exits as Cuddy simply nods. He knows she may very well pull an all-nighter with her need to get the software up and running.

Wilson doesn’t bother to swing by House’s office to check in on him. In his office he faintly hears yelling through the walls. House is clearly frustrated with his current case and he is trying to get his team to give him some additional options, but half of them are helping out with the Clinic. Begrudgingly, he walks to the Diagnostics' office. 

“House! Give it a rest for the day. We are all tired.” Wilson barks his order at House (well it really isn’t a bark since it is from Wilson, but House knows what that tone of voice means).

Thirteen and Chase look at Wilson in relief and House makes a ‘hrmphf’ noise before relenting to his best friend’s order. House in a dejected way, hangs his head and gestures with his left hand. “You heard Wilson. Go home and get some rest. I’ll swing by the Clinic to tell Foreman and Taub to wrap up things in the next hour and then to head home.” Wilson watches as House reaches to his leg, it must be a higher pain day today.

“House, you bring the bike in today?” Wilson looks at House as he sheepishly nods back towards him as Chase and Thirteen slip out the door behind Wilson.

“Yeah. Can you drop me off on your way home?” House seems almost ashamed to ask this. Wilson’s face relaxes and his brows soften as he watches this new and vulnerable House. It is so, almost innocent.

Wilson replies he can, and he just heads back to his office to pick up his briefcase and put on his coat, scarf and gloves. When he exits his office, House is waiting in the hallway leaning into the wall near his office as they take the elevator down and walk to the parking garage. House fidgets in the car ride and the intellectual energy almost overwhelms Wilson. Thankfully, the ride is short, and House hobbles out of the car and into his building. Wilson of course keeps the car in park as he waits for the light to turn on before he pulls away. Once home, Wilson eats leftovers and sighs as he picks out his outfit for tomorrow. Red and gold tie, with a cream and gold striped shirt and his grey suit. 

His last thought as he falls off to sleep is – **_tomorrow can’t be as bad as today._**

If only he knew.

* * *

Wednesday started off calmly. The computer system still was down, but with their old school paper charting, things were running quite smoothly. The morning had more meet and greets for Jones and new patients. 

House drug him from his office at lunchtime. His current case was still driving him nuts, and House told him that only a Ruben and fries bought by Wilson could help him crack the case. House was only two bites into his sandwich as Wilson gingerly blew on his hot soup when both of their pagers went off. Along with all of the pagers on the bodies off pretty much everyone in the café eating lunch who has a pager.

Wilson looked across the table as House as he squinted at his pager before looking back at him. Neither man needed to say anything, their eyes said the same thing, “Oh fuck.” As the sound of multiple chairs moving concurrently became a small wave of movement and energy in the room, both men picked up their lunch trays to shove their food into their mouths before the tidal wave hit PPTH.

They were directed to go to either the Clinic for a full briefing or down directly to the ER. In the lobby of the Clinic, both of them hung back and ate their food as Brenda stood on the main desk to brief everyone.

“Okay everyone, here is the deal. Our charting system is still down, as it is at all of the hospitals in Princeton and Trenton that use the software. There has been a report of a thirty-car pile-up on I-95 between Princeton and Trenton including a bus. As Princeton General also doesn’t have a working charting system and they are scrambling to find alternative supplies, we are to be the major hospital in Princeton to take the more serious victims since we have a functional charting system in place using our old carbon copy files. The first ambulance is expected to arrive in less than fifteen minutes.”

There is a collective gasp in the entire room as the doctors and nurses all look anxiously.

It is then the sound of Cuddy’s distinctive heels enters the room. She doesn’t move from her position right outside of her office, “You heard Brenda everyone! We are currently the most organized hospital in the area. We will be assigning everyone to various duties for the next six hours until we can reassess. If you are sent to the ER, you are to change into scrubs immediately and head down there once changed. Those of you dealing with less serious injuries will assist in the Clinic and one member of each team will be assigned to skeleton crew duty to cover the normal department.”

With a confident flourish and the posture of a true leader, Cuddy then pulls out a paper list. “Doctors these are to be your assignments. Nurses, Brenda will assign yours in just a moment.”

Wilson glances over to House as he licks his fingers with a now empty cafeteria tray before him while he drinks his soup in between bites of his eggplant sandwich. House’s eyebrows move up in anticipation and looks at Wilson with a twinge of concern.

Cuddy’s clear voice carries throughout the room, “Doctors from the Department of Diagnostic Medicine are to report as follows: House – clinic, Foreman – ER, Hadley – ER, Taub – duty as normal, Chase – scrub into the OR. Doctors from the Department of Oncology: Wilson – ER, Smith – duty, Jones – clinic.” 

Wilson doesn’t hear the rest of Cuddy’s assignments, he’s already out the door and to his office right behind House who is heading back to his own office. As quickly as possible, Wilson removes his tie, hangs it on the back of his chair, and pulls out a spare set of scrubs he keeps in the office for emergencies. He strips down to his underwear and t-shirt and pulls the light purple scrubs over his head and legs. Sitting briefly in his chair he puts on a pair of tennis shoes over an extra pair of socks for comfort and he walks to the locker room. As he predicted, the locker room is packed with others changing and he slides behind Chase and Foreman to grab a few items from his locker where his regular light green scrubs are.

Foreman is pulling his shirt on as he chats with Chase. “I don’t envy you at all. Good luck in the OR.” Chase is tying up his runners already in his scrubs, “Naw, no big deal. I haven’t done a much surgery since returning to the team.”

Wilson is pulling out a small fanny pack he keeps for use with his scrubs since pants pockets just aren’t as spacious as his whitecoat’s. Inside are pens, tissues, a bottle of ibuprofen (for himself) and some chapstick to stop him from nervously chewing on his lips and a pack of half used and rather old chewing gum.

Foreman then continues, “I’m surprised Cuddy assigned House to the Clinic and Taub to keep an eye on our current patient.” Chase stands and smooths down his scrubs as he prepares to head to the OR. “Oh, Cuddy’s assignments make perfect sense. Taub won’t do anything rash and will keep the patient stable. House will likely get some inspiration from the Clinic. Well, I’m off to scrub in.” With that Chase saunters off, Wilson watches his relaxed posture, which doesn’t even indicate he’s about to go into surgery for the next several hours with patients that are likely in very critical condition.

Wilson clips his pack on around his waist and under his shirt. He smiles as he looks at Foreman now ready to head out. “Those aren’t your usual scrubs.” Foreman just looks at him for a second.

“Oh, I keep a spare pair always in the office. I changed there and only came in here to pick up a few small locker items.” Wilson’s preparedness is almost legendary among the members of House’s team. A nod of approval is all Foreman has time to give him as they quickly head down to the ER.

Thirteen joins them in a corner of the room while the Head of the ER assigns everyone to a station to start. Nurses are to handle charts while the doctors are to run completed charts back to the main desk. Use the bathroom and hydrate and then return to the next available bed with a new chart. 

Nurse Diaz then takes charge as soon as the Department Head who replaced Cameron sprints off to meet the incoming ambulances. Diaz speaks with complete authority, “Let’s do this people. Remember, rotate off, take your bathroom break and the return to your post. It is currently 12:37pm, our next shift of ER staff won’t be in until 6 through 8 pm. You need to last until then.” 

Almost on cue the head of the ER runs in ahead of several stretchers, “All victims from the bus that overturned.” 

A cold chill settles upon Wilson before he turns to look at Foreman and Thirteen, all of them looking at each other simultaneously. Thirteen pulls her hair back, already in a tight ponytail and Foreman looks at his feet. The thought of Amber is almost smothering them, Wilson then does something he didn’t expect. 

“Let’s do this guys. She’d want us to.” Wilson’s soft words focus his attention and he steps forward to a bed; Thirteen and Foreman follow in his wake as they spread out with a dedication to their practice. A collective breath is released between the three of them and Wilson starts out working with Singh. Things then become a blur of almost robotic medicine, not the usual way the Wilson practices, but this is the very reason why he never specialized in critical and immediate care like in the ER. Wilson and Singh access a patient, stabilize them long enough to triage them either to the ICU, OR, Radiology or to treat them and send them up to the Clinic for follow up.

He falls into a comfortable rhythm with Singh. As they wrap up one patient, he runs the paperwork to the main desk while Singh hands off the copy with the patient to the next destination. He then heads to the bathroom and even if he doesn’t make use of it, he washes his face, takes a few deep breaths and then drinks a cup of water. Once back with Singh, he gives her a moment to excuse herself and he deals with an initial check on the patient. 

Time begins to blur and about four hours in, Diaz taps both of them after sending a patient off for x-rays. “Take a thirty-minute break in the ER lounge. There is coffee, tea and snacks. Make sure to eat, hydrate and use the bathroom before you come back.”

Blurry eyed and refocusing on something besides the mangled and maimed patients, he follows Singh to the ER lounge. As they enter, Thirteen and Foreman are exiting with two other nurses. Wilson collapses on a couch and he sighs and pulls his hands down over his face. “Hey, you need to eat and drink something before you plop down.”

He looks at Singh as she is picking up two Cliff bars and bananas. “Oh, I guess so. I haven’t done this since my ER residency which, may I remind you, was in the 90s. . .” Wilson ruffles his hair and rubs the back of his neck as he makes puppy dog eyes at Singh.

She laughs, “Nice try there, Doctor Wilson. Coffee or tea?” With a lightness, she tosses the Cliff bars on the couch next to Wilson along with the bananas.

“Coffee, just a splash of cream.” His reply is professional, and he reaches over to look at the bars. Oatmeal raisin or chocolate mint. 

“Here you go.” Singh sits down next to him and offers the coffee to him and he can already smell the warmth and the caffeine. She puts her cup between her thighs and picks up the chocolate mint bar. 

Wilson takes a sip of the coffee and he feels somewhat more human again. “Thanks, I appreciate you helping me out. This is all very different than what I’m used to.”

Singh takes a nibble out of her bar and then sips what smells like chai tea. “Oh, don’t worry about it. You as well as House’s people are some of the better doctors helping out in addition to the normal ER staff.” He finds himself nodding to her as he slowly drinks his coffee before he opens the bar.

“That’s good to know, I guess. You are really a natural at this.” Wilson is impressed by her almost natural knack for knowing how to time things and when to move things along. She blushes a little.

“Aaaww you sound just like Chase. He tells me that I have an instinctive understanding of the flow in the ER.” A timer then beeps on her belt. “Oh, that is our twenty-minute warning. We have ten more minutes to eat and drink and we should spend our last few using the bathroom and taking a few minutes to clear our minds.”

Wilson is beyond impressed. She’s got this down to an art. “Wow, that’s incredible, you have this sorted out!” She smiles, “I certainly do. Now, eat that banana and drink at least another half cup of coffee!” 

The two of them laugh and he follows her guidance to take a bathroom break and then they spend five minutes with their eyes closed taking deep calming breaths. He even uses this time to take an ibuprofen from his strategic reserve. They know it is time to head back to work when the door opens and two more people enter, he’s not familiar with either of them. And then it is back to work. They continue to examine, access and treat various patients. Things begin to settle down and Wilson notices that the feel of the room shifts from high intensity focus to exhaustion.

The ER Department Head, then breaks the feeling of heaviness in the room. “Attention, our next shift of doctors and nurses are starting to come on shift now. However, we have an issue. Due to the fact that we are still charting and handling things sufficiently well, we are getting additional patients from Princeton General that aren’t critical sent here to PPTH. The following individuals are to report to the Clinic in ten minutes; Kim, Hadley, Foreman, Bird . . .” as the list continues on Wilson’s attention drifts, until the last name read is his. 

A deep sigh is all that Wilson can do as he looks at Singh. She smiles at him and mouths ‘good luck!’ as he shuffles out of the ER and to his office. He’s sweat through his scrubs and if he’s going to do Clinic duty, he’s at least doing it with his well-loved whitecoat. A change back into his regular dress shirt, tie and pants finished with his coat and pocket protector make him feel more like himself.

So, he ends up at the Clinic a few minutes late, but it doesn’t matter as Brenda hands him a file and sends him off to Exam room 3 immediately. He opens the door to find House sitting in a chair looking pretty rough.

“Hey.” Wilson looks a little confused as he then looks at his chart. ‘ **House, Gregory** ’ it reads.

“Oh.” He looks back at House, “Looks like I’m supposed to examine you. How long have you been at the Clinic?”

House cringes as he massages his leg, “Christ, I don’t even know. I lost track of time after the tenth or so person I checked for a concussion and minor scrapes.”

Wilson then walks over to House and does a quick check, his pulse, temperature and notices that besides looking tired and his leg bothering him, he’s alright. Walking over to the drawer he pulls out a pre-loaded syringe of local anesthetic.

“Drop your pants, I’m going to give you a local. It should take –“

and House finishes his sentence “ about ten minutes to take effect. I’ll make sure to get up to my office before then and lay down a bit. Got it.”

With House’s own physical ailments managed, Wilson then opens the door and waits for the next patient to be sent in. He glances at his watch, 7:45pm, this is going to be a long day for sure. Just after midnight, he sees he last non-critical patient in the Clinic. He shuffles slowly to the Oncology lounge where he finds Jones asleep on one of the couches and Smith is boiling the kettle. After getting a cup of chamomile tea, he slowly works his way back to his own office. He kicks off his shoes, loosens his tie and sips the tea as he puts his feet up on the couch.

After finishing the tea, he places the used mug on his desk, closes the office curtains and lays down to sleep on his couch.

* * *

Wilson wakes up feeling like shit, but slightly less exhausted, yet still like sweaty and stinky shit. He blinks a few times in the light of the next day. Glancing at his watch he sees that it reads – holy shit, 10:18 am! He was out cold for almost nine hours. In shock, he goes to get up and ends up falling out of the couch onto the floor instead.

He briefly considers lying on the floor in total defeat, but he slowly rights himself and then walks over to his computer and check his pager. The only page he got was the he’d need to do stay on campus until 9 so that he could cover of any issues in Oncology, Smith and Jones were both sent home by Cuddy and they will trade off with him then.

He sighs in relief as he rubs his face and ruffles his messy hair. Half-awake, he puts on his dress shoes and makes his way to the bathroom, where he takes his time before washing his face in the sink. This is one of the times where he can see his true age, hints of grey are about to frame his temples and he notices his complexion is all splotchy. That’s odd he thinks, why is my upper lip area so irritated? Did I have a minor allergic reaction to something? He’s too tired to ponder it and figures when he gets home tonight, he’ll just but some hydrocortisone cream on it.

Even though it is a bit early, he heads down to the café to eat a late breakfast/early lunch by having scrambled eggs, turkey bacon and yogurt. Many of the other doctors and nurses are also in showing the effects of sleeping at work overnight and it is eerily calm.

Upon return to his office, they are greeted with a message that the charting software is back up and running, but until is it stable for the next twenty-four hours they will continue to use paper charting. Cuddy doesn’t fuck around he thinks to himself and through sheer willpower and coffee makes it through his Oncology rounds. Upon his return to his office, he finds House asleep on his couch, looking pretty rough as well. He saw that House’s patient was still in a room, so he still hasn’t solved the case yet.

With the flurry of activity in the past twenty-four or so hours, he decides to pass the time before his last set of evening rounds with paperwork, since he needs to cover off all of the Oncology Department until Smith and Jones get in later. Due to how tired he is, things don’t go as fast as he’d normally like, but making a mistake isn’t an option.

A loud yawn catches his attention as House wakes up. “Fuck. I’m getting too old for this shit.” House speaks to the ceiling as he scratches his stubble on his chin, a bit more out of control than usual.

“Aren’t both of us?” Wilson looks a House as he wiggles his pen between his fingers.

“Ha. Nice try young one!” House is still on his back but his gaze is now locked with Wilson. “May I remind you that you are eleven years my junior.”

Wilson just sighs and turns away as he hangs his head. House remains on his couch as they talk about nothing and he slowly continues to fill out paperwork.

All of a sudden his phone rings bringing out of the soft bubble of that second wave of energy that only happens when you are exhausted. His left hand moves slowly to pick it up as it rings and summoning as much energy as possible, he answers politely.

A familiar voice is on the line, his girlfriend, “Oh, hello, it is just me. I was calling to see if you are okay. I got an interesting text from House.” 

Wilson’s brain immediately crashes upon her mention of a text from House and then he talks through the situation, “You what? Wait? Where is my phone?” and as he says it, he realizes he hasn’t seen his phone since yesterday.

Covering the speaker on the phone he snaps due to his tired state, “House! What the fuck did you do with my phone! Where is it? Did you message my girlfriend? How did you get my passcode!” 

House looks over at him and his bright blue eyes sparkle, no they are twinkling in mischief. Conformation that House stole his phone and messaged his girlfriend. He composes himself to reply to her.

“Sorry about that, it appears that House is the one who swiped my phone. I hope he didn’t send you anything horrifying.” 

Her reply is somewhat reassuring, “Oh, no. It isn’t anything too terrible. Though you may want to wash your face.” Until he hears about his face.

Wilson then thinks back to how weird his complexion looked when he washed it for what seemed like the hundredth time in a bathroom sink.

“My face? HOUSE!” His voice is almost hoarse as he strongly yells at House. House’s eyes are dancing as he replies with a huge grin.

“I gotcha sooooo good this time Jimmy!” House is proud and Wilson can only sigh deeply and loudly before asking her a favor.

“Hey, I have a favor to ask, I’m still stuck at work until about 9 tonight – it is a long story. Can you pick up some take-out supper for me?”

Thankfully, she replies that she can, but of course, Wilson can’t do this alone. With his best mean girl voice, House gives his order for take-out.

Annoyed by his best friend and distracted he doesn’t bother to prevent her from hearing the banter between the two of them, “House, for the love of god, she’s not your errand girl.”

House immediately retorts back, “No, she’s not, she’s **_yours_**. Therefore, by extension since she will be bringing you take-out, I can ask her to pick up take-out for myself as well!” 

Letting out another enormous sigh, Wilson does concede defeat since House is somewhat right. He asks her if it okay to pick up food for House and well and she doesn’t have a problem with it.

About half an hour later there is an awkward knock on his office door, and he yells that it is open to be met with her reply that her hands are full. He opens the door as she is balancing two large bags of take-out precariously. He leans in to help her out and sneaks a quick peek on the cheek.

He’s mildly amused by House’s rousing by the smell of curry. Like the pet cats he’s owned over the years, House sits up and sniffs the air before he turns his focus to the bags of take-out. Since they are all starving, they quickly open things and eat their meals in mostly silence with a few bits of commentary from House, as expected from him. Wilson is certain that even on his deathbed, House will want to get the last remark out.

Thankful for his girlfriend’s assistance, he lets her know as he looks at her with his best soft and caring eyes. “Thanks so much. I, no, we really appreciate it.” He knows it works as she looks away. However, this flirting does not get by House even as he eats.

“Oh, for the love of god, get a room the two of you!” House’s bark is lacking in bite, and just like the gift of a box of condoms, he really isn’t annoyed, just playing his part.

Before Wilson can reply, she does. “Gosh darn it! You saw through my evil plans to take Wilson here on his desk! The moral police should thank you for your service against indecent office sex.”

He notices how calmly she delivered the line and the corners of her mouth are turned up slightly as she teases House. Her expression and ease of banter with House results in Wilson laughing; a good deep stress releasing belly laugh as all of the events for the past two days begin to fade away. It gets even better as he sees House’s look of surprise and when House locks eyes with him, the laugh transfers as he can tell that House might find this girlfriend to be tolerable.

All three of them are laughing and Wilson has to try to calm himself down as he tearing up. God, he thinks to himself. He was more exhausted and stressed than he realized but feels okay.

“Phew!” Wilson speaks as he takes a few calming breaths before he continues, “Well, that was rather unexpected. I’d normally be up for some shenanigans, but I’m still wearing yesterday’s clothing and when I can clock off of this shift, I have only the eyes for my bed. Sorry.”

Making sure that it isn’t her and more work, he looks at her sympathetically and hopes she understands that he’s got to crash tonight.

House indulges himself by smothering his samosa in spicy mint chutney with of his ‘honest’ commentary. Once finished with his samosa, House tidies his empty containers up and actually gets up to leave Wilson alone with her.

“Time to go check in with my kiddies and with my patient as well before I head out in a bit. Night.” House addresses Wilson with only a quick glance to her before he makes his way out the office door. Halfway out the open door and waiting for Wilson’s reply, he tells House to let his team head home and rest.

House looks at him and he feels the love and appreciation of what he has with Wilson and he makes sure to return that feeling back. This aspect of post-rehab House; Wilson likes it and he feels that their relationship is stronger with all the shit they’ve been through over the past few years.

His train of thought shifts as she asks him how much longer he has to work and she begins to clean up the containers. Feeling the need to touch someone, he tells her to not worry about things and just embraces her from behind and he allows his head to hang over her shoulder. He can smell the comforting scent of her remaining jasmine perfume and a touch of sweat. Wanting to, no needing to touch someone he guides her to his couch and they sit down. He then lays down and rests his head in her lap and he makes the simple request to stay there until his last set of rounds at 8.

She smiles and nods to him and he fidgets until he’s more comfortable and closes his eyes. He can feel the soft touches of her fingers in his horrendously messy hair and it relaxes him. The gentle touches lull him to sleep. After a short nap, Wilson naturally wakes up as her fingers touch the side of his face. He yawns and repositions himself to look up at her while on his back, head still in her lap.

He then quietly and tenderly thanks her for sticking around with him. To really make his intention clear, he squeezes her hand with his. He just keeps looking at her as she tries to figure him out and her face makes all of these quick changes as she senses something from him.

He can’t help but keep smiling and he looks at her. This is it he thinks – he’s fallen hard for her – he loves her even though they haven’t been seeing each other for that long, but he has connected with another person who was as lonely as he was. He gets ready to say something when he is stopped by the sound of an alarm, his cell phone alarm to be exact. Sitting up he reaches to retrieve his phone and stops the timer. He then explains things to her, “House appears to have set my alarm for 7:50 so I can start my shift on time and I’ve found my missing phone.”

She gets up and tells him she should head home since tomorrow is still another full day of work. He stands up right after her and tries to shrug to loosen his shoulders before he picks up his white coat, puts it on, fixes his tie and readjusts his pocket protector and clips his pager onto his belt. All set for his last set of rounds!

He tells her to not worry about the take-out containers, he’ll clean them up, and House actually did a half decent job. She thanks him and he tells her that he’ll see her back to the main entrance. He leads her back as they walk in the quiet almost empty hallway. Most of House’s team has gone home – Foreman and Thirteen remain in the messy main office and House’s own office is now dark. 

He catches a glance from her into House’s office as her eyes narrow slightly as she seems to be analyzing the dark, lonely room. They walk into the darkened main atrium as their footsteps echo with only the sound of a janitor and nurse quietly chatting in the corner. 

Cuddy’s office light is on and he makes a tight smile towards it; she’s done a stellar job these past few days, but he hopes she won’t pull another all-nighter. As they reach the main doors he turns to his girlfriend and gives her hug as he speaks softly, “Thanks, so much for helping out. It meant a lot.” 

She hugs him back and breathes in on last sniff of his neck. She then uses her most commanding voice to reply, “Not a problem. You make sure you get home safely after this. Text me when you get home okay?” 

He can hear the concern and love in the tone of her voice which he can only reply to with a basic, “I will.” 

Feeling that this is the time to tell her how important she is, he looks at her face and starts a slow, deep, wet kiss. She melts under his touch and relaxes. Finally feeling like he’d shown his physical intention he makes sure to whisper in her ear with one last hug, “I’ll see you tomorrow night. Love you.”

And with that he slowly let’s go of her and he turns away as he walks back towards the Oncology wing to do his last set of rounds. As exhausted as he is, he knows he can power through the next hour or so.

Jones arrives at the main desk just as he signs out. She smiles at him looking much more well rested.

“Have a good evening Doctor Wilson.” Her voice tells him that Smith passed along his compliment and she’s glad to see him go home to rest.

“Thanks Jones. I’ll see you tomorrow.” With that, he walks to his office, packs up his briefcase, puts on his outerwear and walks by Diagnostics one last time. The office is now dark. House’s team still hasn’t solved their case, but at least House isn’t pushing them to a breaking point.

The cold night air hits his face with force jolting him awake. He drives home in a silent car and enters his condo, literally dropping items off as he enters in a haphazard fashion. While he plugs in to charge his phone, with 30% battery remaining, he opens his text function and sees the message House sent to his girlfriend. He smiles at the photo that House had snapped with the marker mustache, which House actually had the decency to remove before he woke up. Again, post-rehab House isn’t as bitter? Vindictive? He sighs as he reads the message of ‘caring burnout’ which is all too accurate. He even bothers to scroll back to see a message she sent the night before of Keith sleeping on her feet. He looks adorable - that cat is handsome indeed.

Summoning his remaining coherency, he sends her a text to address the concern he heard in her voice before she left PPTH.

**_I’m home now. Feed Keith supper tomorrow night before heading over to my place. See you tomorrow evening._ **

With that done, he walks into his bedroom, tosses off all of his clothing on the floor and walks into his bathroom and turns on the shower. He lets the hot water and steam envelop his body. He washes off the exhaustion, sweat and general musky stink and then shampoo and conditions his hair. 

With his eyes barely open, he brushes his teeth, moisturizes and then slides into fresh pajamas and collapses into his bed. In a matter of minutes after his lamp has been turned off, he falls into a deep, restorative sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy crap this was a loooong chapter. But I really wanted to get both our reader and Wilson's thoughts and feelings during these parallel events captured.
> 
> Upon, looking at this, I can see my own return to a full work schedule this past week and how exhausting it has been even though I'm still not working my schedule pre-COVID permeates the feeling of extreme business. I think it goes to show how tired we all are and returning to somewhat normal work schedules after months of distance/tele-working has impacted our lives. I've chatted with several friends on how we can better prepare ourselves to not burnout in our somewhat burnt out state.
> 
> As this fic as continued, I've noticed how my own real life conversations with friends are working there way into things. Most specifically, when I've talked to one of my best friends; he brought up the fact that you really truly love your best friend(s) and that even if you are separated by thousands of miles (or kilometers for my best friend) you are always thinking of and considering that person even if you are married on in a long term relationship. His words really articulated what I had been thinking with my writing of the Wilson-House relationship. The TV show is clear that both men love each other and I can see my own friendships which developed in professional realms (like the one with the specific best friend) are really important to our overall health and sanity. So, since I'm working hard to write up a more healthy post-rehab House, I think getting Wilson and House to grow and mature their friendship and the love that underpins it makes me happy.


	16. down time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wilson has his girlfriend sleep over and they become even closer over the course of about half a day. Sweet cupcake Wilson fluff gives way to early morning raw emotions. House continues to heal and begins to make connections that would have never happened while on Vicodin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really wanted to focus on our reader connecting with Wilson. I kept things pretty tame with explicit bits absent from the chapter itself. I will add in two more one shots to put in the smutty bits. Those will fall under my "Carefully Calibrating' series if you want some sweet, soft, emotional Wilson lovin'. If the somewhat steamy elements meet your needs enjoy them. If you want more, I'll add those as well.
> 
> Update 30 Aug - I have completed both of the sex scenes and have been posted under chapter 4 in the "Carefully Calibrating" series. If you want to read this chapter with the full fluffy, smutty Wilson experience, flip to it once Wilson pulls out the package of cupcakes and later after kisses your face innocently on Saturday morning.

Wilson wakes up Friday morning and his arm flails to smack the snooze button on his trusty old digital clock radio. He rolls back over and hugs an extra pillow close and falls back asleep only to be roused exactly nine minutes later. This time he sits up in his bed as he turns off the alarm and looks at the clock; 6:10. His entire body has been put through the ringer and he groans loudly as his stiff and sore body protests him getting up to use the bathroom. As he exits, he notices yesterday’s (well technically Wednesday’s) clothing strewn about the room and he picks up the dirty garments and places the wrinkled suit on a hanger to take to the dry cleaners for sure. Taking hesitant steps in his warm slippers he enters the dark living room/kitchen and starts a pot of coffee. He checks his pager and phone; both have the same message for him – start at 10. Followed by a ‘go back to bed’. 

Ruffling his clean yet out of control hair he smiles. Cuddy knows him too well. He turns off the coffee maker, takes a drink of water and then goes back to his bedroom. He sets a second alarm for 8 and he dives back into his fluffy duvet and falls back asleep quickly.

The next time his alarm goes off he feels more rested and begins the whole process over again. He sighs in relief that he doesn’t have to participate in the Clinical trial work until next week! The intoxicating aroma of coffee fills the room and he drinks it while eating some toast and yogurt. Feeling some semblance of normal, he showers, styles his hair into his signature look and wears his light lavender shirt with a purple and pink striped tie with his navy blue suit. 

He picks up two containers of leftovers, with the emergencies at PPTH, he finds himself with ‘extra’ meals. Time to finish them off as soon as possible. It is a crisp and cold day but the sunlight helps him feel warm. 

Once he checks with the Oncology main desk, he’s able to see that Smith covered of the early rounds this morning and they are pretty much back to regular duties. Wilson is able to sign off on the backlog of paperwork from the digital disaster and he picks up both of the containers of leftovers for lunch. 

A soft knock on the door to House’s office rouses him from a nap in his chair. “Lunch?” Wilson’s eyebrows smile at him and House yawns and moves to get up.

As they walk down to the café side by side, he asks House about the case, “How’s the case going? Solved it yet?”

House grunts proudly. “Yes, we finally sorted things out. This morning when I was in the bath, I recalled the conversation about office sex from dinner last night. It was the comment about the moral police.”

Wilson smiles as they enter the queue to get some sides and drinks on a single tray shared between the two of them. “So, what was it that enlightened you?” He playfully asks this as he sees a bag of plain potato chips for him and two packages of M&Ms with a side of fries and two cups for fountain drinks House had put down.

House smiles content, “Patient had a STI which was masking an auto-immune response. Apparently, he was so afraid to admit to hooking up with a co-worker after the departmental Halloween party he just pretended that the last time he had sex was a year ago.”

Wilson turns to pay the cashier and they saunter to the drink dispenser where House picks the Orange Hi-C and he gets Dr. Pepper. “Ah, yes. Everybody lies. Treatment all taken care of?” Wilson cocks up his eyebrow as they place the tray on the table and he puts their chickpea and goat cheese salads in front of each other.

House nods and his eyes half shut like a contented cat, “Yep. Oh yeah, what time do you want to head to the grocery stores? I can do 8:30 if you well, that is okay with you.”

House then takes a loud slurp of his drink and he turns away to avoid Wilson’s now shocked gaze. Something is up – House is never awake that early on the weekend after solving a case!

Wilson’s brow furrows as he takes a bite of his delicious plain chips. “I can do that.” The rest of the lunch is them discussing how to make up for missing trashy TV this week and that it will have to be next weekend.

House leaves the cafeteria with him and he limps into his office to grab his things as he heads out to go home and crash and take more care of his exhausted leg.

Taub can be seen tidying up the office. He quietly and with exact precision, files away printed out journal articles, sorts the trash into recycling by type, and he sees a surface cleaner spray bottle and paper towels at ready in the background. Wilson waves and makes a quick smile towards him – he’s never quite connected like Taub with other members of House’s team. Perhaps it has to do with the similar feeling of unsettledness in his relationship with his wife? Or is it something else? Either way, Taub is not as close to Wilson as what he views as House’s all time top three; Chase, Cameron and Foreman. Thirteen has slowly opened up to him, more so after Amber’s death and he liked Kutner but never really knew him. It may have been that slippery feeling of unsteadiness that Kutner had which Wilson could never really understand and it made the tragedy of his suicide even more shocking.

He enters his office, does a little more paperwork and then heads down for his new 2:30-5 Clinic duty. With House’s case solved and him taking it easy, Wilson finds Cuddy covering off House’s hours. As the Clinic closes its doors for the week, he lingers to chat with her as they sign out at the main desk.

“Hey Cuddy. Unusual to see you here.” Wilson smiles with a playful smirk. Cuddy smirks right back looking much more like herself.

“I’d be more annoyed by that statement if it were coming from House.” She closes a file and places it for sorting before she continues, “Thanks for examining House and helping him during our mad rush on Wednesday. House not only pulled a full shift in the Clinic, he actually allowed Jones and a few others to leave so that they could rest and return later.”

Wilson is surprised. He ruffles his hair and looks away as he gathers his thoughts, “Wow. That is so – un-House. I had no idea, he didn’t even mention it when I gave him the painkiller and let him take a break.”

Cuddy walks towards Wilson as she smiles, “I think, I just think that House has learned more than just getting over his addiction changed due to rehab. It is like he had a huge festering wound and it has finally been cleaned and drained. All that toxicity has finally left his system.”

With every fiber in his being, Wilson knows that she’s right. House’s vitriolic toxicity is gone. He hangs his head for a moment before he and Cuddy turn back towards their respective offices. 

Just as they exit, he turns to her, “Hey Lisa. You’re right.” And they both smile and get ready to head home.

After an uneventful commute home, he pulls out a hodgepodge of leftovers to make a unified meal. It looks like it will be chickpea and goat cheese salad, cream of pumpkin soup, sour dough bread, blanched green beans and two small cupcakes he picked up from the bakery with the bread on his way home.

A ping on his phone indicates a message from her.

**_Hey, just got home. I’m feeding and brushing Keith. Once I’m packed, I’ll head over to your place. Park in the garage?_ **

He quickly replies.

**_Yep, the spot to the right of my car._ **

He spends the next little while reheating and getting ready to plate things out on the kitchen counter. A call to his phone indicates she’s parked, and he buzzes her up into the elevator. A few minutes later there is a quick punctuated rap on the door, and he walks down the hall to let her in.

She smiles sweetly as she goes in for a hug. “It feels nice to hug a less smelly version of you.”

He laughs, “Now, now. I know I wasn’t my freshest, but you can’t but admit you were somewhat turned on by my male odor aesthetic.”

A playful slap to his bum tells him he’s right, “Fine. You win.” She then goes to put her coat and shoes away and puts her stuff down in the bedroom.

With that sorted they settle down to eat his odd assortment of leftovers. It is nice to have someone to talk to after such a physically, mentally and emotionally rough week.

* * *

Friday morning, Keith acts as your alarm clock and for once you aren’t feeling particularly motivated to get to work. So. Many. More. Bloody. Meetings.

Needing to summon all of your powers to survive until 5pm Eastern Standard Time, you select for comfort and connection. You put on an old concert shirt with black skinny jeans. It is a Holy Fuck shirt with the cat wearing the cowboy hat and bandana. Since it is a wildly inappropriate shirt, you take the youth large navy-blue cotton sweater to wear over it and you also enlist the power of your sloth socks. Yep. They are socks, with sloths on them. A pair of red, white and blue oxfords for the win and you play more Slater-Kinney in the car.

As you prepare for the morning’s meetings, your phone rings and it is your boss. She’s calling to let you know that her surgery was pushed back due to issues at PPTH.

You reply that it totally makes sense with the large traffic accident impacting them. A sound of surprise comes from her, and she wants to know how you knew since the electronic charting issue only was made public this morning. 

Feeling bold, you reply that your boyfriend works at PPTH, and you know that they dealt with a heavy emergency caseload.

She simply replies that it makes sense and then delivers the unfortunate news that you will have to cover for her up until the day you head home for Thanksgiving, that Tuesday. You sigh inwardly while outwardly telling her it will all be fine.

The rest of the morning flies by and you survive the barrage of meetings. Eating leftovers for lunch, you then use the afternoon to do, actual labwork and work in the greenhouse to escape from any more questions and to bask in the soft glow of the sodium lamps. You aren’t entirely sure what it is about the sodium lamps used in greenhouses, but something about that warm, orange light accompanied by the soft hum is soothing to you.

You head home and think about this evening to spend time with Wilson. Both of you have had rough weeks. It is nice to spend time with someone who understands and will get your need to just be chill.

Keith is waiting impatiently for you and you feed him his supper with a few cherry tomatoes. While he inhales his food, you back an overnight bag with the minimal toiletries. You take the time to text Wilson giving him and idea of when you will arrive. He quickly replies to tell you to park in the garage next to his Volvo. 

Excellent. You then brush Keith and give him a few kitty treats.

“Okay Keith. I’m off to spend the night with Wilson. You don’t burn down the apartment. I’ll be back tomorrow morning.” You give him a few strong pats on the butt above the base of his tail and he mews. With that he walks off to leap into one of the front windows to watch the evening traffic.

It is a peaceful drive to Wilson’s place. You buzz his unit and he allows you to access the elevator and you exit heading to his door. After a quick knock, he opens the door. He has such a look of happiness on his face as he looks much more human again. There is the trace of bags under his eyes, but he’s got his properly styled hair, and is wearing a flattering lavender shirt with a fun pink and purple tie, and his sleeves are rolled up to his elbows.

You lean in for a hug and you can smell the freshness of his look. His usual cinnamon-spice cologne is much more prominent, and you can’t help but comment. “It feels nice to hug a less smelly version of you.”

His body shakes as he laughs, “Now, now. I know I wasn’t my freshest, but you can’t but admit you were somewhat turned on by my male odor aesthetic.”

You can’t believe that he picked up on the fact that your found his smelly self attractive, so you give him a quick smack to the ass while begrudgingly admitting that he’s right. He allows you to put your things away and place the bag in the bedroom.

When you enter the kitchen, he’s got an odd assortment of what must be leftovers reheated and two plates and utensils set up. He turns to take the kettle off the element and pours the hot water in to mugs for tea.

He turns his head to the side as he asks you what type of tea you’d like, you reply orange spice and he puts the bag in the mug to steep. The two of you eat your supper in a calm hushed silence. Everything is good, and nothing is too heavy. Once finished you help him clean up and he has you wash down the plates before he loads him in the dishwasher with calculated precision.

After starting the cycle, he pulls out two small pumpkin themed cupcakes. “I couldn’t resist when I picked up the loaf earlier.” His eyes have that sparkle and you find yourself grinning back at him.

“Sure. They look so seasonally appropriate.” He beams back at you, “I knew you’d say that, but you are going to enjoy them anyways.

A lighthearted laugh escapes from your throat, “Very perceptive Doctor Wilson, or should I say, Mister Holmes.”

Both of you laugh as he opens the package, “I think I’m more of a Waston than a Holmes – since House truly is a man of pure logic, except for when his pesky emotions get in the way.”

You lean over the kitchen island as you think he’s underselling himself, “I could see that, but really, part of your personality is like kryptonite to someone like House.” And you swallow before you continue, “or someone like me.” Your eyes lock with his and a slight blush spreads across his face before he looks away for a moment.

Wilson then ruffles his hair, “I guess both of you are right in that account, I do understand the emotional part of people well.” He then clears his throat, “And now to act as your very own personal kryptonite, I shall hand feed you a cupcake!”

You know you have a look of shock and horror on your face, “I – wait – what?” and in his left hand a freshly peeled out of its tiny fall leaf patterned wrapper cupcake advances across the island to your face.

Wilson’s eyes are full of mischievous delight as the cupcake wiggles back and forth before your nose, “I - ah” and you are then met with a cupcake gently touching your open lips. Well, you just ‘kissed’ so you commit to things and you awkwardly take a bite. It isn’t as embarrassing as you anticipated, and he is able to gently feed the cupcake to you.

After you are done chewing it and all of its delicious pumpkin, whipped cream glory, Wilson leans over the kitchen island and with a huge grin opens his mouth while looking at you with puppy dog eyes.

Nervously, you take the other cupcake out of the package and unwrap it. Your left hand approaches his mouth and you let him take a bite out of it. A small amount of the whipped topping hits his nose, but he pays no heed to it. Instead, he goes in to pull the rest of the cupcake out of your hand and you are definitely surprised when he licks your fingertips with a shit eating grin across his face. You heart skips a beat.

He quickly finishes his cupcake and then leans further over to grab your face with his sticky fingers as he kisses you passionately on the lips. The taste of the cupcake and the texture of the sugary icing is on your lips as the two of you make out over the counter and all of a sudden, you want him. After a rather intense make out session, both of you pull back to prevent further discomfort trying to stretch over the counter of the island.

With an almost fluid motion, he pulls himself up onto the counter and you move to meet him. Both of your legs dangle off the edge as you return to making out. Your hands roam his body while he moves to slide his right hand under your shirts and touches your skin. The touch makes you moan instinctively, and he laughs into your mouth as you continue to kiss his tongue slowly roaming through your mouth.

Your hands tangle and untangle with each other as you peel the layers of clothing off of your upper bodies, he only pauses to quizzically look at your Holy Fuck t-shirt for an instant before he decides it is in the way of him touching more of your skin. 

Only when his chest is completely bare, and you are only wearing a bra to you realize you can only go so far on a kitchen countertop. Wilson has this frenzied look in his eyes as he leaps down and runs off to his bedroom, and you have an idea what he’s thinking. Somewhat in line with what you joked about Thursday during dinner, you aren’t shocked when he returns with a condom in his hand and pulls you down and he has you prop your elbows down on the counter.

Later, you find yourself disheveled and panting as your chest and face are enjoying the coolness of the marble countertop as he leans over you and you feel his hot sweaty skin on your back as he keeps most of his weight off of you.

After a few panting breaths, he speaks, “That – that was amazing. I can’t believe I actually did it.” 

You roll your eyes, “Suuure, based on how quickly you sprung into action, I’d say you’ve been thinking about having sex, standing up in your kitchen for **_years_**.” He pulls himself off your back and leans his face and chest on the counter as well as he turns his face to look at yours.

A huge sigh escapes from his body as he has one of those post-coital dopey grins. Then he blinks before he looks directly at you, “Okay. I’ve fantasized many times about taking the woman I’m with and well, as you just observed, bending her over the counter and – and fucking her.” He then reaches out and pushes some of your hair out of your face before continuing. “But you went with it, no hesitation. Thanks.”

You smile back at him. “Aww, it isn’t a huge deal for me. I’ve definitely done this before, but you made it amazing.” And you are telling him the whole truth, you have had sex before in this position, with your pants and underwear around your ankles while the person you are with pleasures you, but Wilson is the most instinctive partner you’ve ever had. He reads some sort of subtle clue to know just what to do and he always talks just enough.

“This countertop feels so refreshing. . .” Wilson closes eyes again as his breathing returns to normal.

You finally are able to pull yourself up and the dry air hits your sweaty skin and a shiver runs through your body.

“Time to shower!” your declaration rouses Wilson as he pulls himself off the counter and he kicks off his pants before just pulling his underwear back up. 

“I’ll meet you in the shower.” Wilson says this as he smiles and picks up his pants. A huge blush covers your face and even neck. Timidly you reply with a small “Okay.”

You head into the shower in his ensuite bathroom and turn on the water and remove your bra and socks, the remaining clothing items on your body. Stepping into the warm stream of water you just let it flow over your body.

A minute later the shower curtain pulls back and Wilson steps in. He then treats you to the most relaxing shower you’ve had in a long long time. He gently scrubs your back and washes your hair. He just uses his standard shampoo which you catch a glimpse of, is an Aveda brand normally marketed to women. His fingertips massage your scalp and he sneaks in a quick kiss on your shoulders as he rinses out the shampoo.

By time he’s conditioning your hair, you have given completely into his touch and he hums in approval. While the conditioner, conditions, you turn to him. “What do you want me to do?” you are a little lost without verbal instruction. He smiles down at you, “Wash my hair too please.” And he leans out of the curtain to bring the little wooden shower stool in and he sit down before you. 

Hesitantly, you squirt shampoo into your hands and begin to rub the lather into his hair. His shoulders relax as he sighs loudly. You endeavor to replicate the way he scrubbed your scalp and once it seems like his hair has been washed adequately, you apply the conditioner. He then turns to you and leans down for a kiss on the lips before he turns you around and he rinses out the conditioner and any remaining hesitance is gone from your body.

Squeaky clean from head to toe, he proudly looks at you, hands on his hips. “All done. I just need to wash off myself. Go ahead and hop out.”

You smile since you are starting to get a little prune-y and you need to moisturize. You step out onto his plush light grey bathmat and wrap yourself in two fluffy towels that smell almost like him. “I gotta go use my products in the other bathroom.” He speaks through the now closed shower curtain. “Go ahead. Can you put on the kettle once you are dressed?”

You reply that you will, and you walk across the hall to the main bathroom. Noticing the toilet paper is almost empty you root around in the drawers to find more. A feeling of awe fills your chest when you see and entire drawer is filled with new unopened containers of all of your basic products; moisturizer, facial moisturizer, toothpaste brand, a new toothbrush, deodorant, even a box of tampons! He must have written down everything you had at your place and bought all of it last weekend. Doctor James Wilson takes two things to the extreme, preparedness and being as considerate as humanly possible. This does compensate for the small army of a few of his select items in your tiny cramped bathroom cabinets.

Feeling loved, you do your usual post shower routine and put on a pair of well-worn Roots sweatpants, wool socks, and a long sleeve thermal shirt as you tie up your damp hair with the towel. In the kitchen you put the kettle on and pull down the box of his assorted teas and just as the water comes to a boil, Wilson walks into the room. His hair is damp and he’s wearing red and green flannel bottoms, and a fairly form fitting green top. For a moment your libido thinks ‘round two’ but the rest of your body tells you it has been an exhausting week.

The degree of exhaustion is evident since you look at the clock and notice it is only 8:30! It seems so much later. Wilson waits for you to pour the hot water and he plops his selected tea bag into his mug. Only then does he slide behind you to pull you into a firm embrace as his chin rests on the towel on your head. He feels so warm and comforting and you relax back into him.

Once your tea is sufficiently steeped both of you make your way to his plush couch and settle in. He sits with his right arm on the arm rest and you lay into his left side as both of you snuggle under a knit blanket. 

Languidly, the two of you watch a few episodes of ‘Cheers!’ while sipping your tea sleepily. It is a great way to end a long and packed week. After both of you nod of just before 10, you decide going to sleep is the best option. Teeth brushed and final bathroom breaks taken care of, you get into Wilson’s bed where he’s setting his alarm.

“Hey.” You say this as you slide under the covers of his fluffy duvet. He smiles back at you and curls around your body.

“Hey.” He then kisses your ear and sighs before he turns of the bedside lamp. Immediately, he returns to be the large spoon and he whispers in your ear. “Thanks for being so open this evening.” To emphasize his feelings, he hugs you closer and you feel completely safe in his arms.

You hum in approval. “You’re welcome.” And with that the two of you settle into bed and you let the quiet hush and his gentle presence lull you to sleep.

* * *

The sound of the ‘Commonwealth Club’ radio program rouses Wilson from his sleep as his alarm goes off. The sound of a drawn-out sigh comes from behind him as his girlfriend snuggles up to his back as he debates hitting snooze or letting the radio program continue to air. The mumbled statement of “Hrrmmm ‘Commonwealth Club’ must be around seven.” is spoken into his back as she nuzzles his neck with her nose.

He rolls over so that she can nuzzle his neck and shoulder and his left hand almost naturally tangles itself into her hair. An expansive yawn escapes his chest before he speaks, “Morning. I know you need to get home to Keith soon and I; I have to take House grocery shopping to pick up his test ingredients for his Thanksgiving dessert.” He gives her a good squeeze as she looks up at him through sleepy eyes.

“You are spending Thanksgiving with House?” she asks you this as there is a twinge of sadness in her eyes.

He ruffles her hair to try to make it clear to her that he’s okay with his plans, “Not just House. He and I are going to join Cuddy, her boyfriend Lucas along with her daughter Rachel and her sister you met awhile back and her family.”

She pulls herself up so that she can look at him from a propped-up elbow and her chin settles in her right palm. “Oh, okay. You guys are too busy to make it home to your families?”

Wilson turns his head in thought, she’s partially correct, “Sort of, House doesn’t have the best relationship with his family; I’m sure you aren’t shocked by this.” and she nods in agreement.

“Things have been rough for both House and I over the past few years. I wanted to bring House home with me, but my brother, Danny, had been homeless and battling mental illness for years. He’s in a fragile state and my parents explicitly said I can’t bring House with me this year.” He nervously looks at her to see how she reacts.

“Oh, I didn’t know. I can see how that would be a difficult situation, you want your brother to be comfortable, but leaving your best friend, whom you love behind would be tough.” She smiles faintly at him and seems to hold back something else on the tip of her tongue as she chews on the corner of her lip.

He clears his throat, “Yeah, I always thought it was my fault he just ran away – from everything. The last time I had seen him was here in Princeton, the reason I joined Princeton-Plainsboro at House’s urging. The other thing is that, well, House . . . he.” Wilson signs as he feels almost a teary sensation well up as she sits up and looks at him with utmost empathy.

He swallows the knot in his throat and continues, “House just got out of rehab. For opiate addition. After his infarction, it left him in chronic pain in his right leg, which I’m sure you’ve noticed. As time passed, House’s dependence on Vicodin grew worse and worse. Cuddy and I tried all sorts of things, but we only got sucked into his addiction as well. Both of us lied to the police and – and he indirectly led to the death of my last girlfriend.” He pauses and then sits up with his back against the headboard and he looks away covering his face with his left hand as he tries to put the tears back.

Yet, he finds himself weeping before her as she sits next to his side and pulls him into an embrace. For the next few minutes he shakes as his hot tears run down his face and his nose becomes wet and his cheeks are flush. She doesn’t say a word. She just runs her fingers over his hair and holds him. After the flood of emotions have flowed out of him, he blinks and feels like any lingering bit of House’s unintended impacts have left their hold over him.

He sits up sniffing and she presents a box of tissues from his nightstand before him looking at him with soft, wet eyes.

After clearing his snotty nose and throat, he speaks softly, “Thanks. I’ve never actually told anyone this whole story who wasn’t there to witness it.”

She sniffs and smiles. “So, House went into rehab to deal with his addiction. . .”

His heart leaps at her reading of the situation. She is sensitive enough to not ask for details that he may be uncomfortable giving. He kisses her on the forehead before he sits back up, but intertwines his fingers in hers. “Yes. After the death of Amber, I took some time off to center myself. I almost changed jobs, but then House’s father passed away. Cuddy drugged him and I drove him to the funeral. I was so **_angry_** with him, blaming him for her death, when it was sort of his fault and sort of mine. I was on call and he dialed the place where we were living looking for me to be his ride home from a bar. She went instead and somehow, the two of them ended up on the crosstown bus, likely back to his place when it was hit by a large truck. House was injured with a concussion while she sustained what became fatal injuries. House did everything he could to help, hell, he **_almost_** died himself trying to determine why her kidneys had failed.”

Wilson squeezes her hands and she squeezes back. “Take your time.” she lets him center himself.

“Anyways, in House’s most House way he tried to atone for what if he were religious, was clearly his greatest sin. I had always known he had a tense relationship with his father, but I never could figure out how much of his anger towards his father was the truth or House being frustrated and the drugs talking. I learned that his father, was not his biological father and he had been physically and likely emotionally abused by the man. I still have never known what I’m supposed to do to help him.”

Wilson sighs, as he knows he can be upset with House’s addition and self-centered personality, but when your friend refuses any sort of therapy what do you do when they tell you of abuse?

She gives his hands a squeeze, as she tilts her head considering a reply, “I don’t think there was anything you could do. He’d rather defer to logic and deny his feelings.”

Her words ring true to his ears, and he gains the ability to continue, “So, over the course of that year, House became more erratic and his addiction started to tear him away from reality. It became so bad, that he began to hallucinate my dead girlfriend Amber. He finally, defeated, admitted that he needed help. On a dreary day, I drove him to Mayfield, and he checked in for what initially was to only be opiate rehab. I wasn’t able to talk to him and his treatment doctor, a Doctor Nolan, gave me explicit instructions to deny any of his crazy requests.”

“Several lonely months later, he emerged, Vicodin free. As he settled back into a routine, he moved in with me as it was my role to help support him and keep him off of the need to use. At first, he avoided work, and dove into a cooking addiction with additional domestic tasks. However, his therapist realized he needed his job and he returned to PPTH this spring and his medical license was reinstated during the summer.”

“The two of us barely fit in the old apartment that I was living in, and, to spite Cuddy, I bought this condo and the two of us lived here for several months. It helped me move further from Amber’s death and I felt more stable again, but still reluctant to put myself out there. Finally, he moved back to his own place and I now make sure to go over to his place or have him come over here once or twice a week.”

Wilson finished everything and his entire body felt like emotional jello. He had told her **_all_** of it. His need to **_save_** others; his **_addiction_** to House’s attention; how his relationship with House has hurt him time and time again.

She pulled him into a hug as he fell onto her lap. Her face was calm, while her eyes were swollen and wet. “Thank you. Thank you for telling me about your pain.” His eyes closed as her hand gently strokes his hair. He hears her clear her throat, “I can’t imagine what all of that must have been like. You’ve given so much to those you love, and you’ve been unable to save them. But you are a beautiful person, faults and all. James, you have a good soul.” 

Wilson turns to look up at her face holding back tears, he reaches up with his left hand and his fingers caress her face. The wetness of a tear touches his index finger and he smiles sadly up at her.

“Hey, now. I’m the one who is supposed to cry. Not you.” his words get a faint smile from her and he repositions himself so he’s sitting up facing her. He reaches out again with his warm hands and gently kisses her face, on her cheeks, the tip of her nose, her forehead. Her eyes flutter shut, and she smiles as the sadness of his confession leaves her face. 

As he peppers her with kisses, his lips eventually land on her lips. She reaches out to take his face in her hands and her tongue glides into his mouth as he sighs. He moves so that he’s straddling her lap with his legs and his left-hand plays with her hair while his right settles on her waist. Her hands wrap around his back and her fingers firmly pull him close as they move closer to each other as their bodies push for more contact and less clothing between them.

Time slows down and softly, gently, sweetly – **_lovingly_** , they undress each other with no pressing concern or haste. He then proceeds to neither have sex with her nor to fuck her; what happens next can only be characterized as making love to her. After they finish, he rolls onto his back to her side and she curls up next to him.

“I don’t know what happened.” Her voice breaks the silence. “I. I have never felt this close to anyone in my life.” She glances up at him unsure of what it all means.

He glances down at her. “Nor have I. Perhaps, we should just appreciate this moment?”

She gives him a hug as he still feels the warmth of her naked flesh against his side. “You might be right.”

They remain still and silent for an indeterminate time until Wilson’s cell phone rings in the kitchen and he glances at the clock, 8:45! “Oh shit! I was supposed to pick up House fifteen minutes ago!” 

She also moves surprised at the time. “Whoops! Keith is going to be pissed.” She then sits up and heads off to shower. Before she exits, she turns around and cleverly points at him. “Don’t worry, you already have a valid excuse for why you are late!” and she winks.

He laughs, “You are right. Plus, this is the one excuse that despite all of his complaining, House will be okay with.” He then walks into the bathroom and showers and quickly changes into a casual sweater with dockers and styles his hair just so it is dry enough. 

She emerges from the bathroom wearing her jeans with a fresh shirt under the sweater and has tied her hair back under a scarf. After packing up her bag she finds him making a pot of coffee as toast, toasts in the toaster oven (he thinks how redundant sounding that observation is).

“I’m off to feed Keith. I have another busy week of work, so why don’t you sleep over tomorrow night?” She looks relaxed and he furrows his brows as he processes things.

“That sounds great. I also will be on your campus on Friday for the reviewer meetings. I can drive you and pick you up when you are done on Friday.” He thinks about his secret plan for Friday evening smiling to himself.

“Okay sounds fine with me. Call or text before you head over tomorrow.” She then gives him a hug and a kiss on the cheek. Her left-hand touches under his eye, “You are a little puffy.” She reaches up and kisses his cheek right below it, “Thank you for the well-stocked bathroom. You didn’t have too.”

He gives her a good squeeze, “Oh, but you see, that’s part of the patented and trademarked Wilson charm. Carefully meeting her needs.” She laughs at him with a large smile on her face.

“Okay, I’m seriously out the door! See you tomorrow!” and with that she hustles down the hall and the door soon shuts behind her.

Wilson touches his puffy eyes, House is sure to notice them and in that moment he isn’t ready to have the conversation that they have never finished over the past few years. He reaches into his freezer and pulls out an ice pack and wraps it in a tea towel. He then dials House, and a somewhat annoyed House picks up, “Oi, did you forget we are in the Eastern Time Zone here?”

Summoning up his best liar voice possible, he replies, “No, I did not. Sorry, I had my alarm still set from yesterday and I hit snooze thinking I had more time. I’ll be by your place as soon as I finish my toast. I can bring coffee along for you?”

House sighs and relaxes, it appears he was worried about Wilson’s apparent tardiness, “No, that’s fine, I already had a nice pour-over cup and made a crepe.”

“Okay, then. I’ll see you in about twenty.” Wilson ends and House grunts before he ends the call. 

Wilson turns his attention to holding the cold ice pack over one eye, while eating toast and sipping his coffee with his other hand. He does it for five minutes on each eye. It is awkward, but it works. Reading all those random ‘ladies’ magazines in the lounges after all these years has paid off with something.

He puts on a pair of loafers, his coat and in less than ten minutes is outside of House’s building on Baker. House is out less than thirty seconds after he has parked, and he makes a direct line for Wilson’s car.

“Morning House.” Wilson greets him with his usual neutral smile. House flops into the seat as he places his cane between the door and him. He then turns and looks at Wilson, his icy blue eyes mapping out Wilson’s face and smile.

“Mornin’ Wilson, today is a historic day; it is a day when James Evan Wilson managed to oversleep.” House smirks and Wilson ruffles his hair as he blushes and looks away.

As he carefully turns on the indicators and enters traffic he replies, “Well not all of us can strive for perfection like you.”

And with that the two men are laughing as they head to the Farmer’s Market and four of the finest specialty stores in Princeton in the name of pastry science. 

* * *

Yoga class this morning was **_almost_** a breakthrough for House. As he was in corpse pose at the end of the class, he felt a warmth radiating out from his body and this feeling of energy supporting him. It, it was almost something that he couldn’t put his finger on as if he were a granola munching, organic food growing, vegan hippy, he’d say that the earth was coddling him like a small child.

Ah but then the teacher rang the gong that ended the class and he slowly sat up feeling overall quite good. He instinctively rubbed his leg where he once had living, functioning muscle, more out of habit than out of need. The teacher leaned over him asking him if he was okay.

He nods and quietly replies that he’s “Just fine.” She places a hand on his shoulder, “Take extra time if you need it.” And she walks off silently in her bare feet to put away blocks and supports.

House cocks his head to the side, he thinks to himself, he actually is just fine. This yoga class might be starting to make him feel things. Things he can feel and they change his emotions, but hard science can’t explain.

Not wanting to fill his head with strange thoughts, he slowly gets up and wipes down his mat and returns his extra supports. He thanks the teacher and then heads back to his bike. The street is quiet as the sun begins to peek between the buildings and this otherworldly glow surrounds him. He watches as his breath dissipates before him, swirls of aerosols from his lungs. Bundled up, he places his cane in the holder on the side of his sport bike and he revves the ignition. His days of riding will soon be numbered. As much as the freedom and potential for reckless behaviors increases with the bike, for a reason he can’t quite identify, he wants to put the bike away for the winter and just drive into work.

So, this morning, he slows down and really takes in the environment around him and he savors it. The cold air, the crisp sounds, the lonely dog walkers and the sunbeams through the low-rise buildings. 

He parks the bike next to his functional, but outdated and ugly car, and walks into his apartment. The neighbors are on their way to walk their dogs and he curtly nods at them. He still won’t say hello, but at least now he at least pays attention to their existence. This seems to work for them as they also nod back and smile.

Per his usual habit, since House is the ‘ultimate’ creature of habit according to Wilson, he draws a bath and makes a pour over coffee. He waits for the coffee to cool on the counter while he soaks in a nice lavender scented bath and he feels good. All of the yoga weirdness washed from his analytical body, he dries off, puts on a fuzzy bathrobe and slippers and sips his coffee, while he decides to make crepes with buckwheat (the clerk at the fancy baking store sold him on it, though it may have had to do with her large breasts).

Before making breakfast, he puts on a pair of jeans, a long sleeve graphic t-shirt and trims back his stubble from feral to sexy. After donning a super feminine apron which he stole from Wilson’s place and he thinks may have originally been Amber’s, he makes himself a crepe for breakfast and then a few for later, e.g. late snack, breakfast tomorrow . . .

As he glances at the clock as he washes the dishes right before Wilson should arrive. At 8:30, there is no Wilson. This is unusual. House begins to pace his hallway as he waits for Wilson. At 8:45, he calls him and can only complain to his voicemail.

 ** _Wilson!_** House’s mind yells. **_Where are you man?_**

He continues to pace but turns his TV onto the local news station to see is there was any emergency or something like that. Other than the report of vandalism on the university campus, someone erected a giant phallic object, nothing terrible as happened.

It is then that House realizes that he’s worried about Wilson, when really, how many times has he been late? He thinks back to yoga class today and his most recent session with Nolan. Wilson is his best friend and the person most important to him. As his addiction spiraled out of control, he became dependent on Wilson to always enable him. But that isn’t ‘how a friendship works’ Nolan said. Nor it is ‘how a relationship works.’

 ** _Relationship_**. That is what he has had with his best friend over all these years. A relationship. The silent glances, the guilt that plagued him after Amber’s and Kutner’s deaths. His ability to have entire conversations with Wilson only through their mannerisms and when he looked into his eyes.

Why didn’t he see this before? Sure, the jokes about the two of them being romantically involved have gone on _**for years**_ and they even trolled each other about dating. But that isn’t the type of **_love_** – gasp – **_love_** that he feels for Wilson. It is something more basic than that.

House then sits down on the back of his couch and stops pacing. The idea has formed into a discrete shape in his mind. It has a concrete name. He runs his hand through his shorter buzzed haircut, “What the fuck does this even mean?” he speaks aloud to his apartment and only the silence of his books and vinyl records reply. His eyes land on his piano.

Taking his cell phone out of his pocket, he limps over to the bench and places the phone on the bench next to him. He closes his eyes and begins to play what he feels. His fingers at first feel hesitant and unsteady, he doesn’t know what his **_love_** for Wilson is supposed to sound like. The messiness smooths out to a soft melody; sensitive and almost feminine in nature (if he were to use a gendered term for it) the music sounds like his chocolate brown eyes which sparkle when he laughs; how his hair sways and when he rolls his eyes at House impatiently. This music, this sound, this feeling, this is all how he feels towards Wilson. 

It is then that he has a moment of enlightenment. He’s written and played for the few women whom he’s **_really_** loved over the years. What he is playing right now is different from that, it describes his bond, his connection with Wilson which is not romantic. It is the relationship that has lasted through all of his relationships with women, steady, constant. 

And if he really strains his ears, he can hear Wilson’s own struggles; how he met him during divorce one, watching marriage number two and three begin and predictably end. The music whispers one last thing to him, **_Wilson is in love_**. This time, it is different. 

The whisper causes him to open his eyes, but then the ringtone of “My Heart Will Go On” plays as his phone vibrates.

Wilson’s very own song specific ringtone. He picks it up and answers it, “Oi, did you forget we are in the Eastern Time Zone here?”

Wilson apologetically replies, “No, I did not. Sorry, I had my alarm still set from yesterday and I hit snooze thinking I had more time. I’ll be by your place as soon as I finish my toast. I can bring coffee along for you.”

Knowing that Wilson only overslept, he sighs in relief and tells him that he already ate and imbibed coffee. He’s going to have to be careful, Wilson is going to catch onto his shifted routine and will become suspicious of early morning House.

Wilson replies, “Okay, then. I’ll see you in about twenty.” 

House grunts in a reply and then ends the call.

Fifteen minutes later, House puts on his peacoat with his mismatched button and a scarf he’s had for decades from a long dead grandma. He watches out the window and as soon as Wilson performs a textbook parallel parking maneuver, he is out the door and on his way to the car.

With little announcement, he pulls open the door and almost piles himself into the passenger side seat.

“Morning House.” Wilson’s greeting is standard wild-type Wilson. Making sure Wilson is okay, he carefully observes his face. Wilson’s just got one of his neutral smiles and he looks a little tired, likely from the past week. Coming to what is clearly the accurate conclusion of Wilson’s current status, he teases him back. “Mornin’ Wilson, today is a historic day; it is a day when James Evan Wilson managed to oversleep.” 

As predicted, Wilson ruffles his hair and blushes a little as he avoids House’s gaze. It is Wilson’s reply that puts him at ease, “Well not all of us can strive for perfection like you.”

House laughs deep from his belly as Wilson smiles and laughs back that them. House feels good and he feels thankful that he’s here this cold, yet sunny November morning with his best friend in the entire world.

He then explores each market and shop as he collects the ingredients for his test macaroons as well as some for a pumpkin cookie. The day stretches out into lunch and House makes supper for the two of them before Wilson smiling heads home.

As the evening progresses and wanting to get to bed at a reasonable hour, he returns to his piano with a hot cup of ginger tea to relax. Eyes shut, he finds himself playing the melody he knows is Wilson’s and it again whispers to him, that **_Wilson is in love_**. As he opens his eyes, he sees the bass player from the swing band. And he knows what he needs to do

for **_himself_** next weekend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter took me someplace I had been wanted to go with Wilson, but hadn't found the right time to address just all of the shit that has happened to him over the years and the toll it has taken on his emotional health. But if Wilson is to make a breakthrough in any romantic relationship, he needs to let it all out there. To stop being the lone person holding both his and House's pain.
> 
> I didn't expect for it to get so intense, but Wilson tears happened. I always felt that holding back to Season 8 for Wilson to breakdown in his car with House was too late. The best time for Wilson to just let it all go would have been after House returned from rehab. It is the first time that he could see his friend might heal instead of denying his own pain. Since I've moved off of canon with a rehab success House, I'm pushing up Wilson's timeline for telling someone who isn't House or Cuddy the true pain he's held all these years and eventually getting to the point to talk about it openly and honestly with House.


	17. finding balance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wilson starts off as House's culinary escort before relaxing with his girlfriend. The work week is much calmer as both find a schedule and Wilson's relationship status goes public.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Domestic banalities, fluff and brief references to sexy times. Nothing exciting happens, but I'm setting up for more exciting things in the next chapter or two. I find myself trying to focus on all the subtleties and non-verbal communication between people, especially from those who are intimately involved.

Wilson was shocked at how a trip to the Farmer’s Market and some specialty grocery shops bled into a full day of House time. Like any addict, House had to weigh all of his options for ingredients for his pumpkin macaroons and bought samples of more than one item to compare them in his tests for the next week or so. Yet, Wilson was relieved that House seemed to be keeping himself mentally stimulated and he also didn’t pick up on Wilson’s earlier emotional melt-down . . . wait he thinks, that wasn’t a melt-down, it was a cathartic release of years of bottled up feelings.

Due to House’s complete need to weigh all of his options, they stopped for lunch after shop number two. A return to shopping for baking goods, then reminded House he needed to purchase more parchment paper and a good sifter, so they had to go to more than one culinary supply store and the entire time Wilson was to serve as transport, escort and an unnecessary second opinion, since whatever Wilson would say, House would still make his decision. With all of his purchases, of course House needed assistance to get all of the bags into his apartment and Wilson found himself carrying all of the loaded and heavy items into the apartment while House supervised.

Just as he was about to leave, House puts on the stereo and asked Wilson if he’d like a beer. It has been a longer day than anticipated and something about a cold one kept Wilson in the kitchen as he watched House prepare dinner for both of them. He even made it healthy enough to keep Wilson’s interest with baked salmon (oddly, already thawed in the fridge) blanched green beans and a side of quinoa cooked in vegetable stock. House never asks Wilson to stay for supper, it just naturally happens, and they catch the end of a hockey game while they eat. Both men yawn after finishing and it is Wilson’s sign to head home; his body is feeling the exhaustion from this morning and he now knows that there is a conversation he has to have with House, but not today. He does notice House’s yawn is rather unusual and likely related to him wanting to start at 8:30 this morning.

With a soft smile and heavy sigh, Wilson stretches and walks his dirty dishes to House’s kitchen and puts his coat on to head out. “Well, that was quite tasty. Thanks.” Wilson doesn’t need to say that much about House’s cooking, and of course the reply isn’t much in return.

House turns to look at him from the couch. “No biggie. I’ll see you on Monday Wilson.”

After a quick reply of, “Later House.” Wilson is out the door and drives back to his condo. His entire body all of a sudden, he feels like he’s been battered; the emotional aftershocks leave him feeling wrecked, but he knows it will be okay. To help himself accept his current state, he draws a bath and adds rose as a relaxing essential oil instead of his go to of lavender. As the warm water surrounds him, he sighs allowing it to soothe his exhausted body.

After the bath, he puts on his pajamas, warm wool socks and makes a cup of sleepy time tea. Instead of watching TV, he pulls out one of his random fact books and reads anecdotes about cats. Once his yawns become too frequent to ignore, it is a sign to him to brush his teeth and go to bed. Within a matter of minutes Wilson is asleep and his body takes this time to rest and heal.

* * *

The very sound of your key in the lock of your apartment door, unleashes the raw power of Keith’s mews. As the door opens, he runs out to rub your legs while he insistently meows making it clear that he hasn’t been fed yet, and it is several hours later than normal! Thankfully, Keith’s cat scheduling crisis has been dealt with and once fed, he quickly returns to normal and watches you as you unpack your overnight bag, and you start a load of dirty laundry. You then prepare for grocery shopping and think about what meals to make this next week since you will have to continue to cover on meetings for your boss with the delayed surgery and recovery time.

The one thing that you try not to think about was Wilson’s tears. You had no idea how much shit he has been through; how it was frequently linked to his best friend House. . . as soon as you find yourself thinking about it, you shake your head hoping it shakes out along with the movement. This allows you to avoid thinking about it, which if you **_don’t_** think about it, you **_won’t_** feel about it, so you keep yourself busy between errands and cleaning. This works until after supper time when you are researching the possibility of getting a hotel in Philly for the night of the Purity Ring show, or if you just want to head back the same day and sleep in your bed (or Wilson’s). A sigh escapes from you and you lean back in your chair and stop looking at your laptop for a moment.

Wilson has been through a lot of terrible things! He apparently did something illegal or lied to the police because of House, his girlfriend was with him when she was fatally injured, and – and he drove him to a psychiatric hospital for what must have been a difficult time in rehab for a drug addiction. You were shocked when he wept before you this morning; he told you he never told anyone about his feelings outside of those who were directly involved! Each of those separate things would be enough to truly test a friendship but all three? How can he still remain friends with House? 

Your thoughts are interrupted by a sound of beerrrtttt and Keith has leapt on the kitchen table and stands between you and your laptop. Of course, you pet Keith as he looks pleased to have your full attention as you give him a good scratch under his chin and his eyes close as he lifts his chin up further. Satisfied with your attention, Keith then stands up stretching so his tail is fluffed out before you before he jumps down to look out the front windows. 

A cup of tea sits on the coffee table while you watch TV with little focus, you just need a low key, distraction as your brain needs to process the ‘Wilson’ situation. Keith returns to settle next to your lap, resting only his head on your legs and you stroke his fluffy black and grey fur as he quietly purrs. Your brain then clicks as you recall how Wilson acts with House. Those guys have a deep friendship that is based on mutual love and some sort of respect between each other. You heard all of the things that hurt Wilson, but there are likely things he has done that have hurt House even if you don’t know what they are. Maybe Wilson gave him ‘tough love’ or tried to support House in a way that made House feel miserable. You can’t be sure, but any relationship like theirs is based on both individuals making mistakes, but also accepting them. . .

All of this thought about feelings and emotions has you burnt out and you retire early with Keith. You have this nagging feeling to give Wilson a good hug the next time you see him. The reassuring presence of Keith’s body touching yours allows you to fall asleep quickly.

* * *

Sunday morning quickly gives way to the afternoon and your phone rings just after 3pm. Wilson is on his way over and wants to know if he should pick anything up. You ask him to pick up some cheddar cheese and sour cream since you have a pot of chili on and you have no idea how spicy it is going to turn out. He chipperly replies that he certainly can, and he’ll be there by four at the latest.

When he arrives just before four, his face is flush from the change in temperature and his hands are full; overnight bag, tomorrow’s suit and a shopping bag that contains more than simply sour cream and cheddar cheese. Keith’s head is already in the shopping bag as he sniffs the food items and begins to paw at something as soon as Wilson put it down to take off his shoes and coat.

“Oh no! Keith, there isn’t anything in there for you!” and Wilson is trying to pull him out with free hand while he tries to untie a shoe. You laugh as he falls over trying to keep Keith from the groceries and Keith sprints off with a small roma tomato.

“He stole an entire tomato!” Wilson uprights himself as he ruffles his hair. You smile down at him as you offer your hand to pull him up off the floor. “He most certainly did. When I first adopted him, I had no idea how much he loved tomatoes.” As you help Wilson up, he stands before his hands settle on your hips as he listens intently for you to continue.

“I bought three roma tomatoes and put them out in the kitchen counter in a bowl. When I came home from work on Monday evening, I had one tomato left, and the remains of a tomato smeared into a rug in my bedroom. A white rug of course.”

Wilson laughs as he pulls you in for a hug, “That is too funny. But tell me, how did you determine it was him?” You give him a good squeeze as his warmth radiates around you. His eyes are full of that mischievous sparkle and he waits for your answer. “Well, later that evening while washing the dishes, Keith leapt up on the counter, gently picked up the tomato in his mouth, placed it on the counter, knocked it on the floor with a paw, jumped down and then picked it up in his mouth and sprinted off with it.”

Wilson has such a look of amazement as he gazes at you and smiles as how silly Keith is. “That is some dedication to eating a tomato. I’d say he deserved it for all the effort!” You make a light laugh before you give him soft smack to his bum, and he looks at you with surprise as he leans in for a kiss. It isn’t serious or intense as he quickly pulls back. “I guess, I should make sure he doesn’t smoosh more tomato into other things.” And his right hand goes to ruffle the back of his head and hair. And if on some sort of cue, Keith runs back into the entryway next to the kitchen, tomato in his mouth before drops it down on the kitchen tile to try to eat the decent sized tomato.

You are now the person in shock, “I think you made him feel guilty or he’s here to gloat in front of you. . . .” Wilson looks just as surprised as he’s now watching Keith’s produce stealing skills in action. “Yeah . . .” and Wilson just leaves his statement to disappear off into the soft licking and chewing sounds of Keith’s attempt to _eat_ that tomato. The two of you separate as, he puts the rest of the groceries on the kitchen table before dealing with his overnight bag and clothing for Monday.

You peer into the grocery bag to find several more roma tomatoes, limes, chopped onion, tortilla chips, sour cream, shredded cheddar cheese, and a bunch of cilantro. Looks like Wilson wanted to make some basic salsa; how cute you think as you organize things and put the cold items in the fridge. Warm hands settle on your shoulders as you neck is nuzzled and his soft hair touches your skin. A sigh escapes from you and he pulls you in for a hug, “I’m going to make some salsa, I hope you don’t mind.” To complete the hug, his hands rest on your waist.

To let him know salsa is a fine idea, you place your hands over his, and lean back into his embrace, and you feel okay with things. “You should let me go so that you can start on your salsa.” Wilson’s body hugs you a touch tighter, and he gives you a final squeeze before he releases you and you turn to face him. A feeling of quiet surrounds him as he doesn’t seem to be as talkative as usual. He rolls up his shirtsleeves and pulls out the cutting board and a bowl of adequate size to start making his salsa.

As you bake easy cornbread, and he prepares his dish, and the two of you fall into a comfortable conversation about work tomorrow and how things will hopefully go. After supper, he helps you clean up and pack up all the leftovers. There is a ton of chili and you offer some to him for lunch tomorrow. Hesitantly, he asks if he can pack a container for House as well. There is the quick flitter of anxiety across his face which leaves once you confirm it is fine with you.

Both of you need to be up early on Monday, and you deliberately make it clear to him that getting into the bedroom earlier, rather than later is what you want. As soon as the two of you finish, you are jolted back to reality that it is time to brush Keith and he has no issue pestering you after such intimate times. Wilson laughs lightly as he heads to the shower and you put on just enough clothing to brush Keith and give him the last bit of kibble. After completing your nightly routines, the two of you are in bed by 9:45pm like total rock stars. Keith joins you on the bed and you drift off to sleep with him and Wilson next to you.

* * *

As usual, Wilson wakes up before his alarm on Monday morning and he spends a few minutes just being; then he’ll get up and shower so that he can be his glowing best for another week of work. His girlfriend is not one for emotions, and he was just a little nervous seeing her after Saturday morning. Those fears were unnecessary, and he was pleasantly surprised when she deepened the hug last night before he made salsa. His gut tells him that it may have been her way to deal with such a massive outpouring of grief and complications. With great stealth, he is able to turn off his alarm on his phone without rousing the extreme sensitivity of the feline tomato thief.

So very very very slowly, he rolls so that he is facing her back as she sleeps soundly on her side, back towards him. With skills that would make a ninja impressed, Wilson moves so that he’s behind her and then he snuggles up into her while nuzzling her neck. Her scent is a mix of the blankets with a ‘fresh’ scented fabric softener, a lingering bit of sweat and mainly her natural smell. His move to hug her wakes her as she is on the edge of awareness – he hums pleasantly as he continues to nuzzle her and begins to lightly kiss her neck below the hairline, to her collarbone and a needy sigh escapes from her and to press his advantage he gropes her and she moans.

He’s then taken by surprise as she turns to him and rolls on top of him becoming quite assertive and it leaves him vulnerable for a moment as she quickly goes about reducing the number of garments between them. 

A short while later, Wilson finds himself out of breath and sexually satisfied from an intense morning quickie. It was unexpected, but he’s not one to complain as he glances at the clock. 6:30. Well, he won’t be in as early as he likes for paperwork – but it was worth it. The sound of a toilet flushing catches his attention as she hangs in the doorway, “Hey, bathroom is yours. I’m going to make some coffee and oatmeal.” Keith is intensely meowing at her feet for breakfast. Now that he thinks about it, he has no idea where Keith was while they were having sex . . . hopefully he wasn’t watching them . . . he has no idea why, but he is unnerved by Keith watching them have sex.

And with the thought of feline voyeurism, Wilson realizes he should shower so that he’s at least in before eight. It will still give him a House free block of time. He exits the bathroom at his sparkling best, though lacking in pants with the green tie of seduction around his neck loose. His girlfriend is sitting at the kitchen table drinking her coffee while reading the Washington Post on her tablet. He smiles and sneaks a kiss on her cheek as she continues to read an article. At first, he thinks it was her ignoring him until her right hand comes to land on his bum and give him a light tap. “I think you may need to look a little more decent to appear in public. Unless this is the underwear commuting day and no one told me.”

He laughs, “I was unaware of such things. Bathroom is yours.” And he pours himself a cup of coffee as she finishes reading and then washes her dirty dishes and heads into the bathroom for her rather minimal routine. Wilson takes a large sip to make sure he’s on the way to full wakefulness and he puts his navy suit over his light blue dress shirt. Not even looking, he styles his tie in a half-windsor knot and then sits down to eat oatmeal and finish the cup of coffee. Dishes rinsed and next to the sink, he pulls out the containers of chili and he adds some cheese into a smaller zip lock bag. Not sure what to do with her lunch, he puts it on the table and places a spoon, some cheese and wraps leftover cornbread for her. 

Then she walks out of the bathroom fully dressed. Her outfit captures late fall, a soft tight fitting dark grey sweater and a wool grey and purple plaid skirt with black knit tights. “Is that my lunch? Let me grab my bag.” She pulls a canvas lunch bag out and packs her items in it, “Thanks, you didn’t need to.” And she tiptoes to kiss him on his cheek. The scent of her jasmine perfume tickles his nose and he’s blushing. Thankfully, she already turned around to pack her bag for work. Unlike the expected briefcase he carries, she has a messenger bag with built in reflective paneling and a few buttons pinned on the corner. She hasn’t spoken much about her time before moving here to Princeton, and the bag looks well-worn and he recalls looking into similar ones when a nurse he was crushing over needed to replace her current bag and he just briefly was tempted to surprise her. It was all old hat for him; nurse just went through a bad breakup, had to downsize, but still was paying rent in an apartment for two, and had no choice but to cycle since the ‘shared’ car belonged to her ex. Realizing he’s drifting off in his mental rewind, he recalls that the whole point of this observation was that 1.) she has a cycling messenger bag and 2.) it wasn’t a cheap purchase, but he hasn’t seen evidence of a bike in her small apartment.

“Hey, you almost ready to go?” her voice catches his attention as he packs the overnight bag and he feels not quite with it. An instinctive ruffle to his hair allows him to reset.

“Just about, I just need to double check I grabbed by charger.” He quickly verifies that he unplugged the charger and put it in his briefcase with his phone and he’s all set save for putting on his shoes and coat.

“Good, we should shove off.” Her statement indicates to him that it is time to head out and drive off in their respective directions. As they exit, she looks at Keith sitting in a living room window, “Bye Keith. Be good. Don’t burn down the apartment!” Keith blinks at her in reply and she locks the door. In the hallway he goes in for a full hug and kiss. 

“Have a good day at work. And remember, I’ll stay over at your place Thursday night. I have plans for Friday okay?” he gives her arms a good squeeze as she smiles.

“Okay. I’m now interested in what these Friday evening plans are.” And with that they turn to head towards their parked cars; his on the street in front of the building, hers in the resident lot behind.

Cold air greets him as he enters the lobby and it is even colder when he opens the main door and steps out onto the street. _Thank goodness I splurged for those extras,_ Wilson thinks as he observes frost on the mirrors and windows. Gently placing the lunches on floor behind the driver’s seat, he puts his keys in the ignition and runs the defroster at full blast, heated mirrors and even turns on his heated seat while his briefcase rests on the passenger seat.

He scraps the thin layer of frost off of the side windows with his snow scraper while he hears the station call number for the local NPR station at the top of the hour. A few minutes later, he sits down in his toasty seat with clear windows and mirrors ready to drive to PPTH. The parking garage has small frozen puddles in the corners, and it reminds him that the holidays are approaching. Thanksgiving is taken care of, but he would like to see his brother before the end of the year – perhaps, he could head to his parents’ place for Hanukkah? Though he doesn’t even know if his girlfriend is religious or not? He highly doubts it since he’s spent enough Sunday mornings with her to realize she doesn’t go to church.

Cuddy catches him at the main desk as he checks for any messages before he heads up to check in with Oncology before doing his modified rounds. He was surprised that she was looking for him since she usually isn’t in this early and he has instinctively learned to ignore the hallmark sound of her gait in heels due to the number of times it has been linked to House.

“Wilson. Morning.” Cuddy looks at him with a smile. He nods and replies with a “Morning.” Her outfit is bold, a red and black check pencil skirt, frilly red sweater and patent red pumps. A feeling of calm surrounds her, so he can tell this isn’t anything serious and he looks more closely at her face where she appears well rested and the signs of exhaustion no longer surround her striking teal eyes. His entire assessment of her is in a mere matter of seconds, and he nods for her to continue.

“I just wanted to say I went over all of the hours from last week. Since you took so many additional shifts, as well as House, during the emergency situation, I was able to determine that the two of you put in enough hours to cover off some of your upcoming Clinic duty. Talk to Brenda about adjusting things either this week or next week around Thanksgiving.” Cuddy places her right hand on the desk as she leans into it confidently as she waits to see his reaction.

Wilson is again surprised that House did more than he has even been known to do of his own free will and he shrugs while thinking things over. “Oh, you didn’t need to, but I won’t say no to an offer of credited Clinic hours. Did you have a nice weekend?”

He places his briefcase down on the counter and slouches into it with his left elbow on the counter ready to listen to Cuddy attentively. Her teal eyes glance quickly to the side before she looks directly at him. “Lucas took me to one of the Korean spas outside of the city. It was amazing and afterwards we went out for dinner. It really reminded me how we tell our patients to practice self-care and then we forget to give it to yourself.”

Wilson nods in agreement with her, “Yeah you are absolutely right. Last week was just one disaster after another!” 

A more inquisitive smile appears on her face and Wilson tilts his head to the side just slightly following her smile. “How about you? Did you have a nice weekend?” Her question leaves him with the option to do what he’s always done, make a vague non-specific statement that doesn’t reveal his personal life, or he could just tell her the truth. He hesitates as he ruffles his hair and looks away for a moment, “Oh, not much. I took House shopping for baking supplies for his Thanksgiving pastry and hung out with my girlfriend.” 

Cuddy’s eyes narrow a touch at the mention of House and his girlfriend and seems to want to know if this is going to be a repeat of the Amber-House battle for the affection of Wilson. “I see, well, you have a few less Clinic hours that you can use to ‘hang out’ with either House or your girlfriend.” She then sighs as she looks at her watch, “And an administrator’s job is never calm for long. I have a meeting with potential donors that I still haven’t prepped for at nine. I’ll see you later.”

Wilson doesn’t envy that aspect of her position, he finds dealing with Oncology fundraisers to be more than enough for him, as he’d rather stick to doing his job of helping people. She flips stray hairs off her shoulder and then heads back to her office. “Have a good one. Good luck.” His words seem underwhelming as he knows wishing her good luck is laughable, she is much better at these things that he’ll ever be; the sound of her heels are heard above the shuffle of everyone else’s feet around them.

A quick trip to the departmental office allows him to relax as the schedule allows for him to make use of one of his Clinic credits to leave at four this Friday, and he’ll push the rest to the day after Thanksgiving.

Right before noon, as he prints off a new treatment guide for a patient appointment tomorrow morning, House swings up the door to his office and a yo-yo shoots out towards him. “Wilson! How about some lunch?” House plays around with the yo-yo a he arranges his papers into neat stacks before he gets up.

“You feel like some chili? I’ve got a bunch of leftovers.” He wiggles his eyebrows hoping he can sell House on it over a Ruben and fries. House smiles and puts the yo-yo away into his pocket and twirls his cane once. “Chili, sounds good to me. But I still need a fountain drink from the cafeteria.” And House’s eyes have that twinkle that is so damn difficult to say no to.

Wilson sighs and puts his wallet in his back pocket as he stands up from his desk. “Fine. But I’m going to microwave the chili while you get the drinks. I think we are beyond hand holding at this point in our relationship.”

A grunt is all that House does in reply, but he’s on board. Side by side, while he swings the bag in his left hand they joke about Cuddy and Lucas going to a spa. Apparently, House noticed immediately since Cuddy was waaaaaay too chill for a Monday morning before a donor pitch. It may have also had something to do with Lucas asking him for recommendations a few weeks ago. . .

Wilson is surprised at House’s local spa knowledge, and he mumbles a reply about, pain management post-rehab and Wilson lets the confession go without a quippy remark towards his best friend.

In the cafeteria, Wilson trusts House with a fiver and despite the statement he would have preferred a non-Presidential faced bill, House takes the crisp bill from Wilson’s hand and enters the queue. As Wilson places the glass containers on their table with the cheese and cornbread between them, House returns with the drinks in one of those small take out trays. Deciding he needed to be more wired, House went for the Mountain Dew and Wilson’s digestive system quivers at the thought, and he got a Dr. Pepper for Wilson with just the right amount of ice he likes.

Without a case, House seems bored, but not lost like he has in the past. Out of the blue, House throws Wilson for a loop, “Hey, I was going to play at the swing dance with the band this Saturday. Are you going to go?” 

Wilson slurps a bit too much pop and the fizz tickles his nose as he sneezes. “You – you are interested in playing there again?” The entire concept of House attending of his own free will, and not to research and torture Wilson has him questioning if he heard things correctly.

House ungracefully chews on the cornbread as some of the crumbs get stuck in his stubble. “Yeah. I mean, I can get some really good blackmail shots of both you and Chase dancing.”

Wilson scoffs in annoyance at the reply, House is clearly lying, “Oh yes, since the revelation of Chase and I’s swing dancing is the right ammunition to help with your plans to become the benevolent dictator of Princeton-Plainsboro.” To make sure he isn’t buying it, Wilson rolls his eyes with great intention and House sighs annoyed.

“I knew that was a terrible reason, but I just couldn’t think of a better one, I mean that Nurse, Singh is on the organizing committee so I’m certain the rumors of your dance floor prowess has spread like wildfire through the nursing staff.” House scratches his head before he eats another spoonful of the chili. His face makes a scrunched expression as he realizes something.

“You didn’t make this chili. This is a totally different flavor than yours.” House’s blue eyes stare at him as he checks his watch to see how much time he has before doing rounds this afternoon and finishing up paperwork. Wilson finds it hard to focus on House with his full attention and he is all of a sudden confused why House is so serious about the chili. A fork slowly undulates between his left hand subconsciously as he blinks a few times at House. 

“No, I did not make the chili. What about it?” Wilson isn’t sure where House is going with this, he’s different again, like how he was up so damn early on Saturday.

Not breaking his gaze, House bows his head forward slightly; a movement that he knows means that House is appreciative of Wilson without using words. “Your girlfriend made this. And you are sharing it with me.” There is a quiet moment as the pause seems almost too long. “Is she okay with you sharing it with me?” and the expression on House’s face hits Wilson like a ton of bricks. Could it be the House is worried that he might hurt his current relationship? That would be so crazy, no improbable, as he reminds himself that only a few months ago House was at Mayfield and crazy is not the correct term to use in reference to House recovering from an addiction.

The next few seconds have Wilson’s brain feeling out what would be the best thing for House to hear; he settles on keeping it simple. “Yep, my girlfriend made the chili and she offered leftovers to me and she knows you are eating some of it.” 

House nods as he seems to process Wilson’s explanation when Chase jogs up to their table with a file in hand. “Gotta new case! Foreman already signed off on it.” Chase smiles as he hands the file to House, his nose already engrossed in it with an eyebrow arched up in interest. While Chase hovers he notices the remains of their lunch, “Oh chili. Good for weather like today.”

“Well, Foreman did good to pick this one. Let’s get a differential up.” House puts most of his trash and nearly empty container on the tray and stands up taking his drink with him. “Wilson, get back to me later.” The sound of the chair scraping across the floor is just annoying enough that House grins in delight as Wilson and those around him cringe. House is quickly on his way with Chase as he updates House on any additional information that the team has already collected.

Suddenly alone at a messy café table, Wilson returns to finishing his last bit of chili and he tidies up the table collecting the containers he borrowed from his girlfriend and throws away the trash. The rest of his afternoon is fine, he works his way through his rounds and has time to chat with Smith and Jones who are having a cup of tea in the lounge after four. Making sure to not fall behind in his paperwork, Wilson swings by the main desk to pick up any additional items before Susan heads out for the day. He catches the glance of the young female nurse who had been crushing on him recently and she turns away without her usual smile towards him. Looks like his relationship status **_has_** worked its way through his immediate nursing staff. At this point, he can’t really identify who said it, but the fact he publicly stated he had a girlfriend with Cuddy this morning at the main desk was likely the push it took for it to be fully absorbed and realized among the staff. 

This time is seems different; he’s always been so cautious about his relationships not wanting to have them complicate things at work. Maybe he’s been going about this all wrong? He flips through additional mail from his box and notices a fancy envelope addressed to him. Stopping in the hallway just outside the Diagnostics office, he opens it. It is the official invite to the Princeton-Plainsboro Winter Formal, a new event that the board voted on earlier in the year as a morale booster and opportunity to recognize staff performance. The RSVP date is December 1st and there is the option to bring a plus one and Wilson finds himself smiling like an idiot to himself. It is only then that he looks into the main office for House’s department. House is leaning with his chin on his cane as he looks at Wilson briefly, before he interjects into the conversation between his fellows about what test to perform next on their patient.

Found out by House, he quickly returns to his office with the pile of papers and mail in his hand and sets about doing his paperwork before he heads home tonight. The sound of Arcade Fire play softly on his boombox and House opens the door catching his attention, bringing him back to the reality that it is already after six. “Aren’t you heading out soon?” House looks at him as he stares blankly at his best friend and the chorus of ‘Rococo’ creates an odd soundtrack to this moment.

Ruffling his hair, he looks at House, “Once I finish off this pile of paperwork. I have the clinical trial reviewer meeting later this week, so I can’t fall behind.”

Wordlessly, House saunters over to his couch and then flops down. “That’s right, I’ll have to log my hours with you to determine when to get a rain check for them.” 

Recognizing that this is one of those moments where House just wants to bum around and think about his current case, Wilson turns his attention back to filling out paperwork for the stupidly complicated American medical insurance system. If I would have only known how much of my time would be spent dealing with paperwork, Wilson thinks to himself . . .

“When did you start listening to hip and reasonably contemporary music?” House is laying on his couch with his hands behind his head. 

The question catches Wilson’s attention as he puts his pen down and decides he can leave that last few papers for tomorrow morning. “I’m surprised it took you this long to notice.” Wilson slouches back in his chair as he looks at House.

Only then does House turn to look at him, “Well, it is always hard to tell if something was a gift from one of your patients . . . but seriously ill individuals don’t spend time at the Princeton Record Exchange and your music taste hasn’t updated itself since the mid-90s.”

Wilson laughs at House’s judgement of his lack of taste. “I guess you are right that I’m not by any means a hip individual.” Feeling playful, he arches his eyebrows up to catch House’s attention further, “Would you believe it that I’m going to a concert at the end of the month?”

House grins back at him, “What? You? The prim and ‘appears to be’ proper James Wilson is going to a show?” 

Turning away from his best friend Wilson looks off at the corner of the office as he shrugs slightly. “Yes. Can you remember the last time you drug me to a show when we first started working together here? You gave me so much shit that I was dressed like a lost yuppie!”

House slaps his thigh as he recalls the evening and laughs heartily. “Oh god, that was the best! Wearing a salmon polo shirt and khakis does not say fan of an underground blues musician.”

Wilson and House are now laughing. After the giggles subside, House pulls himself up and grabs his cane from the floor next to the couch. “Welp. I should check in with the kiddies before I head home.”

“I should finish up one or two more pages here. I’ll see you tomorrow House.” Wilson picks up his pen and smiles back.

House is nearly out the door before he leans back to get in the last word, “Have a good one Wilson. Also, work on making it not sooooo obvious you got laid this morning. The constant smiling to yourself was so fucking pure that I had to actually talk to the patient to find an honest to goodness lie.”

Wilson blushes in his office alone as he comes to the conclusion that perhaps his own body language was enough to tell all of PPTH that he had changed his status from ‘single’ to ‘in a relationship’. Sighing heavily, he smiles to himself and wraps up the last few pages, packs up his briefcase and runs into House’s team on their way out the door. Thirteen drew the short straw and will be monitoring the patient and the rest of the team is heading home for the day. The guys then shifted the topic to the winter formal, Taub seems keen to take his wife, while Chase and Foreman are unsure what to do. Wilson jokes that either of them could take House. Chase seems to seriously consider it for a moment while Foreman makes a look of disgust. 

“I’d expect you’d be the one to take House.” Foreman’s words are nuanced, he’s both joking and at the same time serious that with House back from rehab, Wilson would by default take House. Maybe if this were several years ago, he’d do what Foreman is thinking. Yet, it isn’t when House was on the Vicodin and the two of them were too tangled to know what to do untie the knots without cutting it apart with scissors.

Wilson pats Foreman on the shoulder just before they reach the parking garage, “I don’t think my girlfriend would appreciate me taking House.” Getting the last word out, he opens the door to the garage and takes the stairs to the next level where he’s parked leaving Chase, Foreman and Taub behind. Chase smiles softly and ambles after Wilson, while Foreman and Taub exchange a look of surprise and Taub makes a quick gesture for Foreman to pay up.

Laughing to himself, Wilson feels happy that there was a betting pool about his relationship status with House’s team, though based on Chase’s neutral expression and Thirteen not participating in the games, he’s guessing that Foreman held out due to his stubbornness to be independent from the fray.

* * *

Despite your annoyance with greater responsibility at work, you feel much more comfortable with things. Monday goes well, and when you arrive home to find Keith waiting for you, it seems like this week will be okay. Tuesday and Wednesday are tolerable and Wednesday evening Wilson rings you. He is just touching base with you that he’ll pick up some take out Thursday on his way over and he makes it very clear that on Friday he can drive you to work and he will even come back to pick you up at the end of the day since he has something planned.

It sounds fine, and you then ask him why he’s not at Poker Night with House; it is Wednesday night, after all. He replies that House currently has a case and he’s staying with Foreman to monitor the patient overnight. 

Thursday morning, Wilson sends you a text asking if you want Thai or Chinese for supper. It really doesn’t matter too much, but you know if you don’t give him so clear instructions, he’ll worry about making the right call. 

****

**_Panang Curry with tofu!_**

With that simple text he knows to get Thai. He quickly replies.

**_Thanks! [winking face emoji]_ **

You smile as it looks like Wilson is discovering the utility and amusement of emojis for texting. It is adorable. And almost sexy. The rest of the workday you do your best to not think about what you want to do Wilson **_after_** supper. 

The only time you slip up is during an exceptionally boring meeting and you find yourself toying with a pen between your fingers and your mouth and a supervisor asks if you are okay. It brings you back to the present and you hastily write down several notes with the pen. 

For the commute back to your apartment, you set the mood and listen to the first album by Washed Out. Any artist that chooses to put naked people on the cover art in what is clearly a sexual position, has made it quite clear that this album is all about sex. With Keith fed and your appetite increasing, Wilson arrives at the perfect time comfortably juggling Thai food, a suit for tomorrow, his familiar overnight bag and his weathered briefcase. You relieve him of the Thai food, and he leans in for a rather intense kiss. Someone has been thinking about this for several days besides you.

Your curry smells delicious and you quickly pull down two plates so that the two of you can eat as little or as much as you’d like. Wilson ordered a mango salad, tofu skewers with peanut sauce and a side of jasmine rice. He returns from the bathroom and seems happy to see you and the food. This meal gives you the chance to make jasmine tea and you put the kettle on as he prepares his plate. The curry is a tasty as it smells, and you sigh a little bit too excitedly catching Wilson’s attention as he carefully spoons the peanut sauce onto an individual tofu square on his plate. “That good?” Wilson’s arched eyebrow communicates much more than just damn good curry.

“It is!” you then scoop up a bit of the curry and offer your spoon to him. He without hesitation samples the curry, trusting you completely to hold it steady. A look of surprise and satisfaction is on his face as he nods. “Oh, that is good. And here I’ve never even thought of ordering that!” He smiles and seems happy that you offered him your curry without concern.

All of a sudden, your moment is interrupted by a beerrrrtt sound from the floor as Keith appears on the middle of your tiny table going straight for Wilson’s mango salad. “Keith!” both of you shout at the same time and Wilson barely blocks his nose from making contact with the sweet mango goodness. You are able to scoop Keith off the table and get him back on the floor. Apologetically, you inform Wilson that Keith, ‘really loves mangoes’ and that he also steals and eats those. Wilson looks down at Keith in mock horror, “Keith! Are you sure that you are a cat?” Keith mews in response to Wilson’s inquiry and then walks away. Cat interruption now over, Wilson softly looks at you, “Would you like to try my mango salad? Now with Keith approval.” You smile as he offers a forkful to you and you accept it. After you are able to safely bite the mango off his fork you look back into his deep brown eyes. His smile is relaxed and friendly, but his eyes, the emotion in his eyes don’t even come close to everything else he can say with words. Instinctively, you swallow in response. If feels so new to be in a relationship like this. The moment then breaks when he blinks and goes back to eating the rest of his food. Together, you pack up any leftovers for lunch tomorrow and he decides to wash the dishes while you deal with cat related tidying aka scooping out the litter box.

He just finishes washing the last plate, gently putting it into the dish rack as you approach him from behind and give him a good hug. Even though it is clear he had a full day of work, you can still smell the faint memory of his cologne mixed with his musky scent. Taking a deep breath in, you fade into his back. Wilson sighs as you touch him, and he carefully removes his hands from the sink and lays the gloves off to the side to dry overnight. Your hands are covered by the softness of his hands and he presses down into them reassuringly. After a minute like this, he gives your hands another squeeze before he turns to face you. “Hey there.” His smile is honest, and you know you are smiling back at him. 

His left hand comes to the side of your face, quickly followed by his lips on yours. Both of your sigh at the same time and he slowly leads you out of the kitchen and into the bedroom. His intention is clear and the two of get closer and closer to your bed. Gently and submissively, he leans back and sprawls out on your bed as you hover over him. All of his body language signals to you that he’s letting you take the lead and you are more than pleased with this. Relaxed and spread out below you, his hands are open and frame his head as he looks at you in anticipation, a small strand of hair curled over his forehead. It all stirs something in your gut, and you straddle him and hold his face as you kiss him as he keeps his hands still on the bed. He hums as his eyes flutter shut and thus begins an evening of you having your way with him.

Later, you find yourself rolling off of him since you are flushed and sweating and he languidly lays on the bed, eyes shut, enjoying the moment after you pulled out all the stops. Only as your heartbeat decreases can you feel how warm you are, and the cooler air causes you to shiver in response to the sweat. By making a ‘burrrrr’ noise, Wilson instinctively rolls over to you and pulls you close to him, considerable warmer, but still sweaty. Yet, as it is still a weeknight and both of you have work tomorrow and almost as a warning, you yawn immediately followed by him.

“Okay. Shower time.” You figure if you vocalize it, you will be able to move more quickly, but Wilson goes in for a nuzzle-snuggle combo. His lips brush your neck as he replies, “No. Snuggle time.” and he pulls you in even closer and you can’t help but laugh.

“Snuggle time can return – after showering.” And you then begin to untangle yourself as he sighs over dramatically and sits up his hair messy in all sorts of angles. “Ok, but you know what would be better. Mutual shower time.” Your brain crashes at how damn forward he can be in private and he’s slyly smiling at you and you have no fucking idea how he can fit in your tiny shower with you. It isn’t like you have a full-size fancy bathroom like he does and you are struggling to say no to his face, “You, you can’t fit in there with me.” It comes out like a stutter since he’s making these eyes at your and some basic part of your biology thinks this is a good idea; you haven’t tried shower sex yet – and at that moment your brain stops working and you smack yourself in the head. 

Wilson is jolted out of his seduction pose and you just dash to the shower leaving him perplexed on your bed. Thankfully, he doesn’t attempt to squeeze into your shower since it would really, truly not work from a logistical perspective. However, he is waiting for you once you emerge and he sneaks in a kiss and friendly smack on your still wet ass before he hops in and begins to hum a vaguely familiar show tune.

Keith is waiting for you outside the bathroom and you perform his evening routine of brushing, kitty treats and kibble. Satisfied, he purrs and waits in the living room for you to retire to bed shortly.

Wilson joins you in bed as he requests you set the alarm for 6:30 for him. His grooming routine dictates his earlier than your preferred waking time, but as long as he feeds Keith breakfast and lets you sleep a bit longer it is okay with you. As you settle into the covers, he sighs as he spoons you as you turn of the light. “Night.” He says it quietly as he sneaks a kiss on your cheek before returning his head to the pillow. “Night.” You smile even though he can't see it and a mew announces the arrival of Keith who wedges himself between your legs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And another chapter comes to an end. I was hoping to make it to Friday evening, but curse me and my need to just say so much. Brevity is not the soul of my writing, though I'm still witty from time to time (I hope). I gotta leave you wondering what Wilson's mysterious plan is for Friday evening.
> 
> As catchy as Arcade Fire's track "Rococo" is and "The Suburbs" is a superb album, "Neon Bible" is my fav by far and brings be back to purchasing it at Luna Music in Indy, able to pop the fresh brand new CD into my car for the drive back to Lafayette. I really wanted to work some Neko Case in here, but I'll have to leave that to a future chapter.


	18. striving towards good, giving and game

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wilson is excited to be an independent reviewer for the clinical trial and of course makes time for lunch with House. He then makes a bold move in the relationship in an attempt to take his own personal needs into account as well as his previous history of pleasing his partner by going above and beyond.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a chapter that is leading up to some sexy times but with actual mature adult conversations. The title refers to a Dan Savage quote that partners in a relationship should be good, giving and game; this means that they are open to their partners ideas or desires within reason and that things go both ways. I think it is a lovely concept and modern media still sucks at writing this into stories, though I'd say early on in House, Chase seemed to be the character who may had been an example of a GGG type character (before he started dating Cameron).
> 
> Again, I apologize for my random stab at how a clinical trial would allow people to review materials, but I could see the need to prevent anyone from trying to steal or release the data before the company would like that information to be public. I mean, hell, I've taken an exam where the only thing you are allowed to have is a pencil, eraser and your passport as identification and the rest of your stuff is locked away.
> 
> There is now a smutty side chapter under the 'carefully calibrating' series. The sex starts at the very end of this chapter which goes from some sexy foreplay to - some time later.

With what is becoming a routine of sorts, Wilson wakes up a few minutes before his alarm. He as usual spends a few minutes letting his mind wander in the silent dark. Today is his first official day reviewing clinical trial data, and then he has his shortened Clinic hours before he’ll return to pick her up for his mystery location. The thought of his plans has him grinning like an idiot to himself and then the alarm goes off.

Keith is immediately up and meowing for breakfast as his girlfriend hits snooze and ignores the additional movement. Wilson scoops out the recommended ¼ cup of kibble before he heads into the bathroom to shower. Today’s outfit is even bolder and more like himself than his last one when he signed away his soul and got his id card and parking permit. He selected his lavender dress shirt, a navy, purple and magenta striped tie and he’s going for his classic sweater look with a plum colored v-neck sweater. He’s got a dark navy-blue suit, but with the sweater, he’ll likely end up ditching the jacket in the car and as soon as he gets comfortable, he’ll roll up his sleeves. His girlfriend enters the bathroom as he’s moisturizing his face with still damp hair. It would just be rude to use the blow dryer if she wasn’t up yet. She starts poking him to let her use the toilet and he obliges. After a flush and good hand washing technique she emerges and heads to put on the kettle for coffee and breakfast.

Wilson reminds her that he’ll be fed breakfast, so he’ll just have some coffee and she snarks back that she thinks the company is subconsciously trying win over the reviewers with baked goods and generic fruit platters. He laughs at her joke and he goes back to style his hair for its flowing best. 

With him skipping breakfast for the time being, he’s able to sit down with the cup of coffee and he watches her as she goes about her minimal and efficient morning routine. Through all the relationships he’s been in, she has the most atypical grooming and personal care habits of any woman he’s encountered. It perplexes and interests him. Plus, he can actually sleep in later than he would have with another woman if her routine also required a lot of effort in the morning.

She always washes her face and moisturizes before heading to the bedroom to pick out her outfit before applying deodorant and perfume. If there is anything, he’s noticed that is a requirement for her it is oddly perfume. Finally ready, she is dressed in a hip yet professional way. Dark grey dress pants that flatter her figure in all the right places, a black suit jacket over a pale golden-yellow Purdue t-shirt. He does recall her mentioning doing her grad work at Purdue, though the logo is retro. Since when did the university have a griffin as a part of the school seal?

“Hey, earth to James Wilson?” her voice catches his attention as he’s drifted off in thought of random university trivia. 

“Oh, sorry, just thinking about random stuff. Shall we head out?” Wilson smiles with confidence and she nods back to him. 

They put on all of their appropriate winter outerwear and after what is clearly her departing statement to Keith, she reminds him not to burn the apartment down. It is a dark and overcast day and both of them silently listen to NPR as he drives to her workplace and she seems to sleepily look out the window. Wilson is surprised that he doesn’t feel the need to chat with her, if House were with him, there would have already been an argument about the radio station, something silly and House would be frantically filling the empty spaces with his boisterous voice. This is nice Wilson thinks . . . he doesn’t feel the need to chat with her and it doesn’t make him feel like he’s not trying hard enough.

After parking in the special lot for contractors, they get out of the car and head to the main entrance. He makes sure to walk next to her and he even reaches out to grab her left hand with his open right. She looks a bit surprised, so he gives her hand a good squeeze to signal to her that everything is okay. There is a little bit of a flush on her face, but it is hard to tell as they see their breath before them in the air as the sound of their footsteps on the parking lot pavement is the only noticeable sound between them.

At the main entrance he releases her hand due to the logistics of opening a door with a briefcase and she opens the door first as her messenger bag allows for two free hands. In the lobby the both come to a halt. He turns to her as she briefly looks at the floor between them. Knowing that she’s definitely much more shy here at work, he leans in to give her a hug and a quick kiss on the cheek. “Have a good day. I have to be back at PPTH for Clinic hours, but I will be free at 4pm. I’ll head over here and call you when I get here.”

She smiles, “Sounds good. I think my last meeting ends around 4:30. If I’m running late, I’ll send you a text. Have a good one.” It is then that he catches the edge of a smile in the corners of her mouth before she quickly turns to head towards the agriculture research division.

Wilson swings his briefcase as he walks to the security point and uses his new id to get him into the reviewer area. As per the contract, he hands over his briefcase and cell phone to the main desk and will only use the materials supplied there to prevent any leaking of information. Once inside the conference room, there are several workstations set up with name tags. He is more interested in the excellent spread of muffins, bagels, donuts, danishes and the predicted generic fruit platter and some yogurt. And of course, orange juice, there always needs to be orange juice. 

The environmentally friendly compostable plate is filled with fruit, a bran muffin and a yogurt container leans precariously and Wilson tries to balance it while also getting orange juice. Upon successful transport of breakfast foodstuffs, he collects napkins and a spoon as he settles into a small workstation which is labeled for him. Another doctor is already seated while nibbling on a maple glazed donut. Once in place he glances around to see who else is working on his team, a few of the names he recalls from the orientation and then notices, Dr. Forrester. Looks like the serious and proper Eva Forrester is in his group. At least he doesn’t see Jones so he’s at least dodged that annoyingly chatty bullet.

A few other people meander in over the next ten to fifteen minutes and then the company representative enters and walks them through all of the paperwork and documents. Today’s main objective is to read the internal reports and the raw data. All reviewers are provided pens and notebooks so that they can jot down their thoughts and opinions on the data as they read. Of course, they are reminded that the notes and even the very pens are to be returned with their packets of confidential information.

Wilson looks around and smiles at some of the other doctors before they start reading; he’s glad that a few of his colleagues smile back while others are engrossed or just don’t care about being social. Eva of course doesn’t smile, but she does nod back at him. 

Over the next few hours, Wilson reads all the documents carefully and takes notes on all of the important points and makes notes of original cell culture trial results and the working concentrations and LD50 as well as the actual cell line that was tested. It has been years since he’s just had so much data interpret that didn’t have a human element to it. As the cobwebs are removed from his basic cell biology part of his brain, he finds himself engrossed in these data and results. The mix of nostalgia for his pre-med undergraduate classes and the novelty of cutting edge research puts him in a good mood and he finds himself almost humming to himself.

With an hour left in their allotted time with the documents, the rep returns to remind everyone that they only have an hour left and they would like the reviewers to have completed the cell culture results and hopefully, start on the human clinical trial results. The next session will be to finish up the clinical trial data before discussing with the panelists in the following session. A feeling of an actual academic deadline excites Wilson and he makes sure to wrap up all of his notes on this section and at least get to the experimental design section before today’s session ends.

At the end of the period all of the reviewers are instructed to place all of their materials into a small box. They then return the boxes to the main desk in exchange for their bags and cell phones. The entire experience was intellectually stimulating, and Wilson smiles leaves the security check point. After a trip to the bathroom, he exits as Eva walks by with her designer heels and handbag. He nods at her, “That was interesting. I know we can’t talk about the data out here, but I forgot how fun it is to work with actual data.”

She tilts her head and calmly replies to him, “It is what it is. Have you not participated in any reviewer panels ever?” A thin perfectly groomed dirty blonde eyebrow arches up as she looks at him.

Shrugging and ruffling his hair, he sheepishly replies, “I really haven’t. This is my first chance to do one. I mean if it isn’t obvious, PPTH does stand for Princeton-Plainsboro _Teaching Hospital_.” He isn’t quite sure, but he feels the need to defend the fact that he’s the department head of a hospital with a teaching and service mission.

As they enter the main lobby, she turns to the café to get lunch and she seems to be thinking of what to say to him. “Look, I’m not surprised you are at PPTH, your style of medicine is clearly aligned with a place like that. I’ve got a meeting with a friend this afternoon in the pharma division, so I’m getting some lunch. Care to join me?” Her expression is blank, and he’s thrown for a loop.

A glance to his watch tells him it is just after noon and he doesn’t have Clinic hours until 2:30, but he should try to have lunch with House if possible. He gives her his perfect customer service smile, “Thanks for the invite, but I need to get back to PPTH and I have Clinic duty this afternoon.” He looks at her face and sees no real change in response to his reply. Eva nods and turns to enter the queue.

Slightly confused by her friendliness, he heads out to the parking lot and drives back to PPTH. The first thing he does after dropping off his stuff in his office, is to head to House’s office. He opens House’s door without knocking to find House laying on the floor trying to set up rows of books and binders for a giant domino relay. “Just a minute-“ House doesn’t even look up at him as his left hand gestures for him to pause. Gingerly, House gets up and backs away until he can pick up his cane and he finds the start of the arranged books. With a simple nudge from his cane, he tips over the book and it starts a chain reaction that both men silently watch. Within mere seconds all of the books and binders have collapsed and a rather large and outdated medical text lands on a lever that launches his oversized ball into the fellows' office hitting Foreman squarely in the back of the head seated at the table.

“Score!” House yells this in delight as Wilson watches wide-eyed and the rest of the fellows all stop to stare at a pissed off Foreman.

“Lunch?” Wilson asks House and he grins like an idiot sauntering off with Wilson towards the cafeteria. House explains how long it took him to set up the book ball launcher, and that he’s still stuck on his case, but the patient appears to be stable.

Both men get Ruben sandwiches and Wilson makes it very clear they are only getting one order of fries while in line. House grumbles but doesn’t fight him on it and even again goes to get both of their fountain drinks while Wilson pays and heads to their favorite corner table for prime people watching views. Today’s focus is on what shade of lipstick women (or men) are wearing as House read something that pink is the most common even though he thinks it is counter-intuitive to basic human biology signals. Wilson just nods along that he thinks red is better than pink and sips his Dr. Pepper casually. House agrees with him and then goes into a long discussion about the use of carmine in lipsticks and how it is derived from ground up insects. “Think about it, whenever you kiss someone with red lipstick you are kissing extracted bug pigments!” House’s eyes delight at this notion and Wilson rolls his eyes. “Greg House, ruining romantic moments since 1959.”

Needing to check the main oncology office before heading to the Clinic, Wilson excuses himself and House follows him like a puppy dog who missed its owner for a scant few hours. Paperwork taken care of, Wilson puts on his white coat over his fashionable (in his opinion) plum sweater over his dress shirt and tie, re-adjusts his pocket protector and heads to the Clinic. 

With the colder weather, it looks like cold and flu season is upon them and his afternoon is spent soothing patients with runny noses, sore throats, and the usual. He calms panicked parents with ‘prescriptions’ for chicken soup, tea and rest. 

As his shift ends, he clocks out, hangs up his white coat in his office and swings by the Oncology lounge to check in on Smith and Jones. Sure, enough the two of them are having a tea time break and he stops by to chat with them before heading out. Jones is on call this weekend and he makes it clear to her that if she needs any assistance to call Smith or himself. She confidently tells him; it will be okay and he knows that it will be with her on call.

Wilson’s last stop is Diagnostics where House is brainstorming with his team about their case. Leaning the doorway Wilson looks at House, “I’m off for the day. I’ll call you about tomorrow.” House looks up at him and ignores his fellows. “Okay. Night Wilson.” Wilson nods back at him, “Night House. Night guys.”

With that Wilson returns to the parking garage and drives back to pick up his girlfriend. After he parks his car, he hears a ping of a text message.

**_Almost done. Will be out the door in 10._ **

He quickly types a reply.

**_No problem. I’m parked in the lot. See you soon._ **

He then leans back and relaxes for the next few minutes waiting for her. The sun is setting and the streetlights flicker on creating an artificial dusky glow and he watches as employees make their way back to the main lot. Some are relaxed to be done with work others seem excited, while others hustle with an anxiety around them. He then sees his girlfriend walking with purpose as she heads to his car. He double checks that the doors are unlocked, and he smiles through the windows before she opens the door. 

“Hey. Have a good day?” She looks a little tired but relaxed. 

Wilson smiles as he waits for her to get settled, before he goes in for a kiss on the lips. “I have had a good day, but I think it can get even better.” His smirks at her and she nervously fidgets about his mystery. The engine starts with a turn of the key and he puts the car in reverse to head to their next destination. The mall.

* * *

Friday has gone smoothly for you. It seems that you have found a good routine with Wilson in the mornings after he stays over and today is comfortable. He made it clear whatever his plans are for this evening that he would drive you to work and pick you up at the end of the day. 

It is a little awkward when he takes your hand in the parking lot. Not surprisingly, he immediately picks up on your discomfort and smiles while he gives your hand a squeeze and you relax a little. Public displays of affection aren’t easy for you, but holding hands isn’t too much. When you reach the main entrance, you do release his hand and open the door for him as he enters before you. 

Since you entered together, it must be evident to those around that you are ‘together’ and you stop unsure what to do. Thankfully, Wilson is much more experienced in this situation and he only gives you a quick hug and peck on the cheek and you relax further. You are so thankful that he doesn’t take things to a level that he clearly can, and he makes sure that you are comfortable with his attention.

The morning is mainly split between the lab and greenhouse and you run down to the café to get a sandwich to go with a meeting that is during lunch. The meeting is still something you aren’t thrilled with but there is only the last one at the end of the day with your research team. It runs a few minutes later than expected so you text Wilson to let him know that you are on your way out. He immediately replies that he is parked and waiting and that there is no rush. You smile at his reply as you shut things down for the day and pack up. 

The sun has almost set as the overcast grey skies fades to a darker shade. You look at the sodium lamps humming in the greenhouses and smile at the warmth glowing forth from them. The streetlights turn on illuminating the various parking lots and you notice Wilson’s Volvo and head directly towards it.

It is light enough that you can see him smiling at you through the windows. You greet him as you open the door and sit down. He smiles before he leans in to kiss you on the lips as he playfully tells you it is a good day, but it can get even better. Oh, yes, you think – he has some sort of mystery and he starts the car and pulls out of the lot.

Not sure what his plans are, you wait patiently until he pulls the car into one of the local mall parking lots and puts the car in park.

You are definitely curious why Wilson has taken you to the staple of middle America for decades, the dying shopping mall. “We are going to the mall?” you look at him for a clue and he smiles before he tilts his head and his hair falls over his forehead.

“Yes.” Wilson begins to unbuckle his seat belt and you have more questions, “Is the mystery in the mall?” you are unsure if there is something special in this mall. And the two of you continue the conversation as you exit the car and shut the doors.

“Er. Sort of. Just follow me.” Wilson then offers his arm to you and you loop yours in his as he leads you to the entrance. The mall is busier than you expected as shoppers surround you. He finally leads you to a menswear store, specifically, dress clothing. Wilson releases your arm to turn to you as a blush appears on the tips of his ears as he leans to the side and ruffles his hair nervously. He clears his throat, “This store has the widest selection of ties in the area in one place.” His head tilts to the side as his eyes glance around for a moment before he looks at you directly. “So, what I’m saying, if you would like to select some ties for, um – use later. You can.”

You then realize what he’s saying, he just took you to a store to find ties, that, you find your eyes wide as you stare at him. Ties that you can use to tie him up. He stands there waiting for your response his hands shoved in his pants. Excitedly, you give him a hug as you thank him. His body relaxes as he looks down at you. 

You then lead him into the store and work your way to a wall of ties. The choices are overwhelming! He stands next to you. “Any idea what you are looking for?” his question is valid; you have never given much thought to the exact type of tie. Color is important to you, so you will have to first narrow it down by color and then the feel. 

“Hrm, I think what color is selected is the most important. I think it should be something that is very different from what you would normally have. You have a lot of striped and patterned ties. I think something bolder.”

Wilson then stands behind you so that he’s lightly touching you. “I guess that makes sense. If you want bold and not something I have, maybe a floral pattern? I’m not very big on red or orange.” His presence behind you is almost distracting, since you are here selecting a style of tie to use on him perhaps later. You feel different and it is hard to keep your focus.

“Okay, lets focus on red and orange ones then.” You then head over to that section and notice a bright red tie with a floral pattern on it. Upon closer inspection, the floral pattern has tulips on it; you reach out to feel it. The tie has a smooth silky texture and softness. You notice Wilson is watching you in anticipation. A lump forms in your throat and you swallow as you offer it to him. “Um – does this feel comfortable?” His fingers brush yours as he takes it and examines it carefully running his fingers along the material.

Wilson’s expression is serious as he does his best to give you proper feedback. “It is a nice strong silk tie. I mean if it is one you like, I’m okay with it.”

You smile and nod to him and then you realize something, “I was just about to get two of the same tie, but that might seem a bit odd. I think another one that is different would be a good idea.” 

At that point, one of the store clerks approaches you as the two of you seem to be seriously considering the ties. “Can I help you?” the college age man asks the two of you.

Wilson fidgets, “Oh, no thank you, I’m just helping my girlfriend pick out a tie for her dad for Christmas.” You nod along, “Ah yeah, we’re fine as my boyfriend just said. Thanks.” Feeling thankful for Wilson’s quick thinking you nudge him with your hips.

“Quick thinking.” You smile at him and he winks at you before you turn your attention to the ties. You notice a bold black tie with a generic five petal flower outline in pastel colors. It is striking and fun. “How about this one?” you automatically pull it down and show it to Wilson. He seems surprised by it, “Whoa, this is definitely bold. I would never pick something like this in a million years, but it definitely is interesting.” The two of you feel the silk of the tie and it is as smooth as butter. 

“Yeah. I think this is it.” As you say this, your gut does a flip; you can’t believe this is happening. Of course, Wilson begins to make the moves to purchase the tie and you stop him. “Hey, I think this is something that I should pay for. You are the one who not only agreed to this, you facilitated bringing me here to do it.” To make it clear to him that you are okay with spending a fair amount of money on the ties you give him a quick kiss on the cheek and sneak in a chance to ruffle his hair as he yelps in surprise before smirking at you.

The clerk slides your card through the reader, and you leave your messy signature on the merchant copy. Two neatly wrapped and packaged ties are in a small bag that you swing slowly as the two of you exit. “Okay. I’m guessing there is a second part to this trip.” You raise your eyebrows as Wilson smirks at you and he offers you his arm to lead you.

With an air of confidence, “Of course. Shall we?” and the two of you walk to the next store. Wilson stops outside of the Sephora and he glances at you with a mischievous look. “Lipstick selection time.” He is much more comfortable with you alongside him and he subtly guides you with him.

“We are looking for a red, correct?” You ask him this as the two you meander through the glamorous displays of make-up and other personal care products. “Yes. I think a medium to dark red would be good.”

You stop at the Urban Decay section. “I’m not good at these sorts of things, but this is an edgier brand so start here?” He nods as the two of you then examine the various reds. Wilson furrows his brow as he compares a more cherry red with a darker shade. “How can I really tell what these colors will look like?

“Oh, we find the tester.” You then are able to pull out the corresponding testers. He watches unable to tear his eyes away from your wrist as you trace a stripe across your skin. For easy comparison, you then draw the darker shade along your wrist.

Holding your wrist up to him, “Here, which one to you like?” His left hand holds your wrist as he turns it to get a look at it in all angles possible. “I’m not sure. They look totally different on your skin than on the package.” He also then rubs your wrist with his finger to get an idea of smudging and it stays put fairly well. 

“I think we should go for something cheaper perhaps?” You grab his hand as you look for the house brand products. There are an assortment of cream based lipsticks which look like they don’t quite have the staying power of the liquid lipsticks you own. Wilson then nods as he picks out a few more reds and this time he takes the lead and uses the tester on your arm. His right hand carefully holds your wrist while he drags the product across your skin. On the second to last red, close to a red delicious apple in color, he makes a small gasp. His firm fingers smudge it with his dry skin and he definitely takes a quick inhale.

“I think this one is it.” He looks at you, and you notice how dilated his pupils are and there is the sensation of him trying to hold back. You smile and nod. “Well, let me find one of the cleansing wipes so that I can remove all the samples.” He picks up a container of the chosen lipstick shade and follows you as you clean off all of the products to reveal a plain and naked arm again. “All set?” You ask him this as he seems a bit distant, likely having dirty thoughts while all these fashionable and stylish women surround the two of you. 

He ruffles his hair, “Oh, I just need to pick up a few more items. If you don’t mind.” You are surprised that he is planning to get more than the lipstick. A shrug from you gives him his answer and he quickly goes to the bath products section. It then is clear to you – there are a wide range of bath scents, oils and salts and he picks up certain ones with little hesitation. You even notice the lavender and lemongrass one he used for your relaxing bath a few weeks ago.

Restocked with therapeutic and pampering products, and one lipstick for sexy times, he takes his small package to the counter. You then notice all of the women watching him keenly in the line and when he goes to check out. The attention leads you to touch him and your hand falls on the small of his back and he looks at you with his lovely dark brown eyes. 

“Hello sir, find everything you were looking for?” the cashier smiles at him with a blinding customer service smile as he puts his small basket down before her to scan each item before placing them in a bag. Wilson looks at you briefly before smiling at her. “Yes. Thank you for asking.” 

The cashier looks at him with a puzzled expression but quickly places all the items into the bag. Wilson pulls out his wallet and hands his credit card along with a – frequent customer card to the woman. Her eyebrows arch up as she notices his customer card and scans the unique barcode before handing it back to him. “With your discount, your final total comes to $86.27 with tax. Would you like to apply your existing points to this purchase?” With a straight face, Wilson replies that he’d like to not use his points at this time. She then runs his credit card and he signs the receipt and thanks her as she hand him his fairly large bag with an assortment of things and a single smutty tube of lipstick.

“Well, we’ve got things settled for right now.” Wilson looks at you with a smirk, and then he checks his watch, “It is just after six. Want to just grab something to eat here and then head back to your place. I’m sure Keith will be hungry.”

You notice how empty your stomach is feeling, “I guess that works. You don’t need to pick up more things from your condo?” 

He grins and gives you a friendly nudge, “I packed clothing for tomorrow in my overnight bag which is still at your place.” You nudge him back . . . “Oh you are stealthy.”

A quick trip to the food court reveals, the typical random assortment of ethnic-ish foods, unhealthy traditional American options and a few more upscale vegetarian places. Both of you get fancy salads, but Wilson wanders off to return with a fresh package of fries. 

“I know I’m being bad, but I’m really craving some fries even though I had some at lunch.” Wilson looks guilty, and you laugh. You are able to reassure him that you can help lighten the load of the fries and the two of you dip them into the small paper containers filled with ketchup.

After finishing a low-key food court supper, Wilson becomes more eager to head back to your place. As he drives back to your apartment, he turns to you at a stoplight, his eyes excited, “So, ah, you will be putting on the lipstick tonight?” You scoff at his questions. “Ah, I was thinking, we’d get to use the ties . . .”

An awkward silence now hangs between the two of you. Wilson breaks the silence, “I guess we should discuss how we want to do this. I think we should make sure to do each thing separately, you know to be fair and in the right mindset.”

You look at him as you think, “Yeah, I agree with you. There is definitely an implied, how would you say it? A certain power dynamic with both of what we’d like to do.” You fidget with nervous energy since it seems like you are getting closer to some sort of solution. “Should we flip a coin? Or make advanced plans?”

Wilson glances at you while keeping his eyes on the road, “The idea of advanced plans makes sense, but I think I want a little more spontaneity. Maybe flip a coin for tonight and then we agree the next time to do the other person’s idea?”

His idea actually sounds like it would work. You do like being able to plan for things, but sometimes, it might be too much to try to force sex. It might work really well. “I think that is a good idea. We will flip a coin for tonight and then we can discuss the next time we do something, which will likely be after Thanksgiving.”

Wilson is smiling as he pulls onto your street, “Good. I think this can work.” With precision and accuracy, he parallel parks the car and the two of you enter your building. Of course, Keith is impatiently waiting to be fed and you quickly take care of things while Wilson futzes around with his clothing.

The two of you sit down in the living room with hot tea as you pull out a quarter, which you show to Wilson between your fingers with a flourish. “Heads or tails?” 

Wilson picks tails and you flick the coin up into the air and it lands on your floor. He bends over to look at it, “Yes! Tails!” and he’s looking at you with a shit eating grin. He then refocuses, “So, how do you want to do about doing this? I mean, I don’t want to stain or damage anything . . “

You absentmindedly pull your hair back behind your ear, “I could put on a darker shirt and I guess it really is up to you. It is your fantasy.”

Wilson nods as he repositions himself in the chair, “I think that would work. I’ve never done something like this before. I could just keep giving you instructions and you can tell me if they work or not. How about that?”

He sounds completely reasonable as you sip your tea and think about which shirts would work with a dark red lipstick and be easy to take off as well. “How do you want me to start? Take the time to change and get ready and then join you in the living room?”

Wilson ruffles his hair as he thinks, “That works. After we finish our tea, I freshen up and wait in the living room. You can join me, and we will go from there.” All of it seems so, straightforward and so fucking mature as you nod along listening to his input as you have a productive conversation about things before anything starts. With things properly discussed the two of you watch some TV and drink your tea. After finishing your cup, you take it to the sink and then head to the bathroom before your bedroom. Wilson knocks on the door frame of the bedroom before he tosses you the lipstick. He doesn’t say anything; he smiles as he turns and using the bathroom.

You open your closet and then begin to find appropriate clothing before you apply the smooth creamy dark red lipstick.

* * *

Wilson nervously fidgets on his girlfriend’s couch. She had just went to change and put on the lipstick that he had specifically selected. His mind is spinning, and he can’t believe that they went to purchase items to help the other person achieve a personal sexual fantasy. He’s excited since he is willing to help her with what she wants, but he’s also asking for what he wants.

Wilson isn’t sure if he’d recognize himself based on his past demeanor and behavior with women. This is new for him. **_Asking_** for something instead of doing whatever it takes to please his partner. He bounces his leg full of nervous energy and tries to think how striking the color looked on her skin and he takes a deep breath.

The bedroom door opens, and he hears her footsteps. “Don’t turn around just yet.” Her voice keeps him in place and he only catches a glimpse of her back as she turns off the kitchen light before turning to him. She kept her pants on from earlier as well as her jacket. Instead of the college t-shirt, she’s wearing a skintight black lace shirt with a black bra under it. It is hot, and then his eyes make it up to her face. Applied with precision is the red lipstick and he sighs as it all matches. A little nervous, she looks at him and stands next to the couch. 

He stands up from the chair and approaches her in awe. Offering his hands to her, he leads her towards the windows, and he settles into the frame as she stands before him. This allows him to look at her as the lights from cars on the street below reflect off of her face and he finally reaches out to hold her cheek as he pulls her in for a slow, deep wet kiss. His hands sneak under the jacket and settle on her waist, fingertips caressing the lace top over her skin. She sighs into his mouth and after a very intense kiss he pulls back to see some of the lipstick now smudged on her face.

He touches it with his left hand, “Lovely.” His finger ghosts over her wet lips as more lipstick smudges on his finger. In a whisper he tells her, “Kiss me.” And she presses into him and her hands settle in his hair and on his neck as they engage in the most juvenile make-out session ever. Her jacket is slowly removed to reveal that the lace shirt is long sleeve and the most form fitting garment he’s seen on her to date. As amazing as it is, this isn’t what he wants to see as things progress.

And with an approving hum, he begins to work on removing more clothing from her.

Quite a while later, Wilson find himself on her bed as she lies next to him sweaty and a complete mess. Both of them are spent and they clean up before heading to bed. As they settle in after brushing their teeth, Wilson asks her if she’d be willing to go to the swing dance tomorrow night. He understands it is a little last minute, but House asked him if he was going since he is going to play with the band. She seems to sense that House doing this might be something important. So, she agrees to go with him, but states maybe not for the entire time.

Happy that she’s willing to go with him, he gives her a kiss on the top of her head along with a good hug before they turn off the lights and settle in. She spoons him for a bit, and he feels the warmth from her body and then notices the pressure of cat paws as Keith curls up at their feet.

Sexually satisfied and happy she’ll support House with him, Wilson drifts off into a contented state of sleep

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know that most of this is super fluffy, but I have a soft spot for shopping for things with a partner when you are in a relationship. Going to a sex shop with a partner, now that is even more fun, or even going with friends you trust.
> 
> I had no idea how difficult it is to try to google crappy smudgy lipstick, so I just had to make shit up that one of the cheaper store brands would be more likely to smudge since 1.) I haven't worn cream lipsticks in over a decade 2.) one is usually looking for a non-smudging/transferable lipstick of which I would highly recommend Beauty Bakerie's lip whips. They are pretty damn good, work with diverse skin tones as a Black owned business and don't rub off on my coffee mugs - not like anyone can see them with the mandatory mask requirements in public currently.
> 
> And finally, an anecdote about university seal/symbols. Despite being known as the Purdue Boilermakers, a railroad reference and sports team mascot, Purdue's seal has had a griffin on it since 1894 with the development of the third seal. I am personally a huge fan of the fourth and fifth seals and have spent more effort than I would like to admit searching for a shirt with them on it, since, ah, griffin! The current seal is the ninth from 1968, which is an abstract griffin going "arg!" with a very vague three piece shield to represent the major disciplines. I'd personally prefer the return to an earlier version, but what do I know? I'm just a scientist with an art history minor not some overpaid upper administrator worried about branding and image as universities come to terms with decreased state funding, population decline and a bloat of overpaid and useless admins.
> 
> Penn State has the most underwhelming seal; the official state seal for the Commonwealth of Pennsylvania and it is shared with all of the public unis. A friend attended Slippery Rock which also uses the same seal and they only change the name associated with it.
> 
> The University of Toronto has an awesome seal, which is more in line with UK universities including an oak tree, beaver and books with a Latin motto in reference to the oak tree growing [in knowledge]. Really, the best part of it is how Canadian institutions took an awkward mammal such as the beaver and made them badass. It isn't true in all parts of Canada, but Ontario is big on beavers as an element of their symbols and it is part of the Parks Canada logo.


	19. support

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The slow burn of Wilson in a relationship continues. The focus of this chapter is on how Wilson supports those around him, almost second nature to him. He does his best to help House with his addiction recovery, has been enough social situations to deliver in a pinch for his girlfriend and always keeps House from doing stupid things at PPTH within reason.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanksgiving is by far my favorite holiday; my personal experience of it really revolves around visiting relatives for a non-religious holiday and food. We could discuss how it is rooted in colonial bias and the impact on native peoples, but when your family immigrated to the States long after that, it really just is a federal holiday that allows you to gather with extended family and eat food.
> 
> This also likely stems from current events preventing me from heading back home for Thanksgiving for the first time since I was covering off a professor's class due to medical leave while in Canada (where Thanksgiving is in October, not November). I am trying to NOT think about holidays alone and thousands of miles from your family, but I am not going to become an unwilling vector for disease as a card carrying biologist.

Keith wakes you up with a paw to the face followed by a lick on your arm. Who needs an alarm clock when you have an exceptionally anal-retentive feline roommate. You find that Wilson has slung and arm over your torso and you do your best to remove yourself without distributing him. He’s out cold, unusual for him, as he almost always rises before you do. The chill in the apartment has the feel of fast approaching winter and you scurry back to the warmth of you bed where Wilson sleeps peacefully. 

His face looks more relaxed and that feeling of loss and heaviness you had noticed previously is greatly reduced as you run your fingers along his brow pushing some of his messy hairs out of his face. You light touch wakes him as he sighs and opens his eyes barely. “Mornin’. Tell me you are coming back to bed?” Wilson’s voice is soft, and you slide back down into the covers and snuggle up next to him face to face.

You yawn before you can articulate a reply and a melodic laugh comes from him as he pulls you even closer nuzzling into your neck. “Thank you.” he whispers into your ear as he goes back to snuggling and nuzzling you. Unclear what he’s thanking you for, he almost seems to read your mind as he pulls back to look at you noses almost touching, “For last night. That was amazing.”

A blush blooms across your face and you know your skin is bright pink from the edge of your cheeks to the tips of your ears. You are so thankful your bedroom is still dark with only the lavender-grey light of predawn peeking over the curtains. He peers into your eyes and you notice a sincerity in his eyes, and you know he’s telling you the absolute truth. Wilson’s statement requires an appropriate response from you, and you try to think of something clever, but everything sounds crass in your mind. The only solution is simple, “You’re welcome.” You smile at him as you reply, “You communicated clearly what you wanted, it wasn’t anything extreme.” And you pause as you swallow as you have to admit how you felt, “And it was hot. Watching you take charge.”

Wilson’s eyes are now wide awake as he gasps slightly and rubs his left hand along your side with a nervous energy, “You were okay with it? Like, I didn’t want to get all patriarchal and patronizing on you.” He ruffles his hair for a moment, “Cause, I haven’t really done something like this before. With another person.” And then it is his turn to blush as he looks away feeling like his previous bedroom experiences aren’t in line with what happened.

You giggle as you snuggle up to him and kiss him on the tip of the nose. “Oh no. You were excellent. You kept checking in with me, you asked if I was okay and you were incredibly clear on what you wanted. It was really hot. I mean, I saw how engaged you were and then I was more into it and wanted to, you know help you – er – get what you wanted.” 

His face completely relaxes as his dawns on him that good times in bed and meeting a partner’s needs are all about communication – a thing that he’s an expert at. “So, it was good then? Even for you?” but at this point he’s grinning from ear to ear already knowing that you had an excellent time. And it was the truth, you were turned on by occasionally dominating Wilson. Just like when he slicked his wet hair back before he went after House in the bathroom. God that was hot and you find yourself getting turned on by him . . . yet you reign yourself back in enough to make a certain point clear to him.

You speak firmly and articulately, “Now, think about how I’ll feel when I get to have my way with you after Thanksgiving . . .” not giving him a chance to even say anything you lean in for a kiss and the two of you find yourselves well on the way to a textbook example of early morning sex.

Both of you clean up and then head back to bed for some more cuddling to sleep in a bit later until it is light out. Light enough that you’d feel that you should be awake. Wilson finally wakes you up again as he nudges you, “Hey, I’m going to make some macadamia nut pancakes. That sound good to you?” you turn over and smile at him. 

“That sounds good.” And the two of you finally get up and start to make breakfast. This time you assist Wilson on the pancakes, and he seems happy that you are willing to help him dig out ingredients, crack an egg or two and leave him the task of evenly cooking the pancakes. He struts his stuff as he flips instragram/cookbook worthy pancakes.

The two of you enjoy a chill pancake breakfast with coffee as you both wake up due to the power of food and caffeine (mainly the coffee). You ask Wilson when he wants to go to the swing dance and if he’d be okay with leaving an hour early, since you have to do laundry and start packing for Tuesday. He sips his coffee and nods along that he agrees, before excitedly mentioning that he’d need to likely pick up your spare keys by tomorrow in case things get busy. You agree with his suggestion and the two of you then clean up, shower and get dressed.

Wilson leveraged the true versatility of his v-neck sweater as he wears it today over a t-shirt with jeans and it looks cute and much more casual than his standard look. It makes you ponder what he will wear later tonight – curious you ask him as the two of you snuggle on the couch while listening to Neko Case on your stereo, her siren song tickling your ears;

**_Mockingbird sings  
_ **

**_Middle of the night_ **

Wilson looks a bit puzzled, “That’s a good point, I haven’t even taken the wool suit to the dry cleaners since last time because I was so busy.” You run your hand along his soft sweater, and you burrow deeper into his side.

**_All his songs are stolen and he hides_ **

**_He stole them from the Whippoorwills_ **

“Ah ha!” Wilson jolts a little as he realizes something, and he kisses the top of your head. “Great idea, I’ll wear one of my sweater vests with a tie. Nice and casual.” He’s smiling to himself as you look up at him. 

“You have multiple sweater vests? I mean you already own a lot of regular sweaters.” You may have your own personal sweater collection, but Doctor James Wilson clearly surpasses yours.

Wilson then sighs as he gives you a squeeze, “Yeah, we will have to swing by my place before heading out; I – ah, wouldn’t mind if you helped me pick which one.” He smiles at you timidly and you give him a hug. You think you can help him out with that. 

As the morning bleeds into the afternoon, you only briefly realize how comfortable and natural things seem to be going with Wilson. He helps out with the dishes and cleaning up, enjoys cooking and most importantly, he and Keith get along. Since he’s taking a late afternoon nap on the couch with Keith cuddled up on his chest both of them out cold. The scene is too much and you snap a pic of them with your phone and toy with the idea of making it your lock screen. . . .

Even though you aren’t flying home until Tuesday evening, you take this free time to start to sort your dirty laundry and decide what clothing that might be dirty is something you want to wear while back home. 

Wilson wakes up with a light giggle as Keith is apparently licking his face as he speaks, “Keith – ack – that tickles. . . . you lick your butt with that tongue.” You walk out to the living room to see Wilson ruffling his hair as he sits up with messy hair. “So, we head over to your place and then out for some dinner before going to the community center?” he nods along to your question.

“Yep, that works, I just want to call into worth to check in with our newest oncologist, Jones. Does the White Lion work for you for dinner?” It seems a reasonable enough choice and you nod in approval. While he dials into work, you quickly change into an A-line dress and some tights with a cardigan. It is a cotton more summery dress yellow with purple flowers, but with black tights and a black cardigan it seems a bit more seasonally appropriate.

When you enter the living room, he’s wrapping up his phone call with a lot of questions, “Everything is okay? You checked with the head nurse? Good. And just in case you have my contact? And Smith? Good.” He then sighs loudly and relaxed wraps up the call, “Well, you have a good evening then Jones! I’ll see you on Monday.”

He puts the phone down and ruffles his hair and you sneak up behind him. “Gotcha!” as your hands hug him from behind and he laughs. You let him go so that he can turn to face you and he quickly accesses your outfit, “Oh, cute. I like it.” And he smiles as his hands hold onto your hips as he sways with you. A smirk and sparkle enter his eyes, “I may even try to coordinate with you.” and he playfully wiggles his eyebrows. With that, the two of you are off to Wilson’s place for him to change and swap out a few items in his overnight bag.

You put on the kettle for some late afternoon tea while he unpacks his dirty clothes and puts in fresh items for tomorrow. He then changes into a pair of black dress pants and puts on a cream dress shirt with yellow stripes before he finds you in the kitchen with a few sweaters and ties in his hands which he lays on the counter.

There is a purple sweater vest, forest green on and a mustard colored one as well. You brain then extrapolates that he likely has one in black, grey, navy, brown and red as well . . . Wilson’s sweater collection far surpasses yours – by a lot of sweaters! “I was thinking either the purple or the mustard colored one, but the green is a nice contrast with what you have on.” Wilson tilts his head to you as his right hand goes to the back of his head to ruffle his hair as he looks at you for some input as his eyes look out from under a furrowed brow.

“I er. Well, since I’m wearing yellow and purple, I think the purple one is best. If you are really going for matching.” You aren’t sure if he really wants to match this well, but your gut tells you that he likely does want to match that closely. He’d see it as a sign of his seriousness, and you find yourself wondering **_how serious?_**

He nods his head, “Okay, good. Now onto the ties.” And with a gesture of his hand he spreads out a few ties. A purple and white gingham tie, yellow, white and black striped tie, a purple, green and yellow plaid tie and a plain black tie. In your eyes it isn’t even really a debate, you pick the purple and white gingham tie and even reach up around his neck with it leaving it for him to tie after you pull him in for a kiss on the lips and he grins in surprise. Humming to himself he picks up everything else and returns to his bedroom to put everything away properly before putting on the tie and the sweater vest over it. 

You are steeping two cups of tea when he returns adjusting the tie as he enters. It looks good on him. Yellow and purple are bold colors that work with his brown hair and he seems pleased with the outfit as he sweeps in behind you for a hug and a quick kiss. “Thanks for your input. I think we look quite coordinated.” And he has confirmed what you were thinking. After your late teatime, you head off to the pub for dinner and a pint before heading to the community center. The White Lion is bustling with activity, but since it is just the two of you and not a large group, you are seated quickly in a quiet corner near one of the fireplaces where most people don’t notice you.

When you finally arrive at the community center, Wilson pays at the door and the dance has just started as you weave your way through the crowd. Chase is dancing with Singh and they wave towards you as you enter the dance floor feeling more comfortable. Wilson is beaming as he leads you along and seems in his element. He occasionally glances up at the band where House is playing piano and House **_may_** be smiling to himself.

During the first break, you hydrate and catch up with Chase and Singh. Chase is wearing a skinny black tie, light blue shirt, with black pants and red Converses, which exaggerate his lankiness and Singh is wearing a cute retro style dress in black and a bright white belt and her hair is in a ponytail with a scarf again. Wilson had wandered off to check in with House before joining you. Chase seems more comfortable chatting with you and Singh is also a naturally easy person to talk with and she is glad to see how you are here again.

Wilson and House then approach as they are laughing about something and their body language is relaxed as they seem to share a moment between the two of them. Wilson then nods and greets Chase and Singh first before the rest of you say hello to House. House’s eyes narrow as he looks at you and then Wilson, but Singh is the one who speaks excitedly, “Oh my gosh. You guys are matching. That’s so cute.” Wilson’s looks faux embarrassed as he leans forward and puts his hand on the back of his neck before House makes an annoyed sound and thumps his cane on the floor.

“Oh, nice try Wilson. You can’t feign ignorance. Your outfit is **_so whimsical_** , it is obvious you matched her and not the other way around.” Wilson’s arm drops as he looks at House about to speak, but House continues, “You are a well-dressed man; that isn’t up for debate, you’ve said in the past, your shoes are French, stylish and untrustworthy. What is different is that she” and House points at you with his cane, “dresses unusually for a scientist and has a bolder sense of style than you.” House then feeling more confident continues, “Don’t think I haven’t noticed that you’ve been edging to more fun outfits as your music listening habits have entered the 21st century, and yesterday’s outfit was also clearly influenced by her.” 

At that point you aren’t sure what to say and Wilson shifts back and forth for a moment, “Fine, you’ve found me out. I wanted to coordinate with my girlfriend, and I had her pick out my tie.” And he walks closer to you as his right-hand settles on your right shoulder and he shrugs a little. “But I must say House, I find it highly suspicious you are wearing one of your turtlenecks with a properly fitted suitcoat.” Wilson then cocks up his eyebrows as he points at House with his left hand, “If anything, I’d say **_you_** are dressed to impress.” House awkwardly laughs as he glances at the rest of the group, nervously tapping his cane.

Chase then brings his right hand to his chin as he thinks, “Wilson is right, the last time you wore something like that you were still unsure if you should date Cameron or not!” with a huge grin, House then scoffs looking back and forth between Wilson and Chase both smirking at him. 

“Whatever! I’ve definitely got photos of both of you to distribute at PPTH! Especially you Wilson, looking all coordinated with your girlfriend.” House tries to make the threat sound like he’d follow through on it when Singh catches his attention.

“Excuse me Doctor House. I’m not sure if you already knew it, but Chase is already on our website and one of the people on our promotional materials, so he’s already public about his involvement.” She states this so clearly that House just sighs in exasperation. 

“I gotta go take a piss before I return to play the next set.” House states this as he turns to the bathroom as he tries to keep his back to the group.

“Oh, he’s definitely interested in someone in the band.” Wilson says this as he crosses his arms in front of his chest. Chase copies Wilson with his arms crossed as well, “Totally. I haven’t seen that clothing combination in years.” The two men seem to have some sort of agreement as they just nod to each other as you and Singh shrug at each other. “We’ll have to dance a bit closer to the stage to get a better look at the female members of the band.” Wilson says this as Chase nods along with him.

The second set starts and predictably, Wilson and Chase make sure that you are closer to look at the women in the house band; playing bass, sax and one woman on vocals. You see a look of awe and excitement in Wilson’s eyes as he watches House closely and Chase seems to keep glancing over periodically. Like the last time, as things slowdown in the middle of the set, House plays a piano solo that captures the entire room. It is then that you notice that Wilson first watches House with a look of softness before he glances at the band members watching. He then gasps for a moment, and you are certain he’s determined who House’s attention will focus on . . .

The rest of the time Wilson focuses on you, playfully leading you as you feel secure with him leading you and he makes sure to sneak in as many extra touches as possible. They end the set with a few slow dances, and you feel that this would be a perfect time to end the evening. It seems Wilson is in synch with you as he pulls you close and sighs before he draws you in for a rather forward kiss as the song comes to an end.

As House leaves the stage for the final break, Wilson leads you over to meet up with him. “Hey, we are going to head out. That was a great solo House.” House’s eyes are half open as he bows towards Wilson almost thanking him for coming. “Well, Princeton-Plainsboro just isn’t paying me enough to cover my hookers.” Wilson laughs and the two of you tell him to have a good evening.

Sleepy, clothing coordinated and content, Wilson offers his hand to you as the two of you wave good-bye to Chase and Singh as they dash next door to the bar for a quick drink. You arrive home to a lonely Keith excited to be brushed before kitty treats and his final serving of kibble. Wilson puts on his ipod through your stereo and he leads you through one last slow dance in your living room. He looks a little guilty as he looks at you, “House was partially correct about me dressing up to match with you. He thinks I was doing it so that I would coordinate with you for you.” He then looks away for a second with a bit of a blush, “I did it ‘cause – ‘cause **_I wanted_** to match with you **_for me_**.” You look up at him and smile. . . “Well, I thought it was very thoughtful, and” you pause, “and I found it incredibly attractive.” At that point both of you have stopped dancing and he’s looking down with you as his brown eyes quiver as his mouth is open as though he wants to say something, but he’s frozen. Your lips are dry, and you feel the need to say something as the electricity grows between the two of you. “There is something powerful about picking clothing for” and you never get to complete the statement with _for your significant other because it is so fucking hot_. 

Since Wilson has leaned down and he’s kissing you with such intensity you think your knees will give out; he pulls you flush with his chest while snaking a knee in between your legs. When he finally pulls back for air, his lips are wet, and his eyes are half open as he smiles. He moves to whisper in your ear, “I never realized how insanely hot having you pick out a tie for me would be. It is like you are **_showing people_** that I’m dating you.”

You look up him as he looks at you with a feeling of pride, happiness and loads of lust. He’s turned on by the **_very concept_** of a suggestion from his partner and how his partner responds to suggestions. This is peak awareness of completely open communication. Your brain can’t take any more complex thoughts anymore. Both of you are wound up and to speed things along, you pull his tie out of the sweater; holding it gently you lead him into the bedroom where you guide him onto the bed, and you spread yourself above him. 

Wilson grins in excitement and you know you are just a stoked as he is. You lean in for a kiss and he lets you take charge for the rest of the night.

* * *

As the band tears down for the evening, House hangs back and helps back with of a few small things, since his mobility isn’t great for fast and agile movements. This time he agrees to join the band at the bar next door for post-show drinks. He is surprised at how welcoming the group is, they haven’t had such a talented and charismatic piano player with them for some time. The bass player with the sharp grey eyes and black hair with those few streaks of grey is his target. Instead of his past strategy of just bulldozing into her existence, he tries to make small talk with each band member as they all are curious about him and he keeps glancing at her while making his way through the group, timing it so that she’s the last person. He observes her from a distance, the sleeves down to the wrists despite the warm stage, her simple all black attire and how a few loose strands of hair escaped from her ponytail to hang off to the side of her face. All of her movements are articulate and calculated – almost rehearsed . . .

House offers his rough right hand as she shakes it firmly. “Doctor Gregory House, Diagnostician by day and occasional pianist by night.” Her hand appears soft, but he feels a connection with her, a rough edge of pain is below the calm exterior. “Sally Davis. Though everyone just calls me Sal.” She smiles as she looks straight into his blue eyes, causing him to hesitate for a moment allowing her to continue, “I’m a studio musician, mainly working out of New York, Philly, Baltimore and DC.” 

The knowledge that she’s an actual working studio musician is enough to capture House for the rest of the time. He almost interrogates her about the pluses and minuses of each studio, dirt on musicians, and he almost wets himself when she drops the names of his own personal jazz and blues icons that she’s actually worked with. House is almost swept up in how he wants to know more about her, but a yawn reminds him that he had yoga this morning and even a quick nap isn’t enough to fight off the call of slumber. Feeling his leg disagree with the late hour, he reaches for his cane and he slowly gets up.

“Well everyone. I am in need of my beauty sleep. It was interesting to play with you this evening.” House doesn’t really smile, nor does he thank them. Yet, this somewhat rag-tag group of musicians doesn’t even notice his lack of social courtesy. The band leader, a young-ish black man who could only be described as dapper, steps forward to shake his hand, (Timothy he thinks the guy’s name is . . .)

“It was enjoyable to play with you. We usually practice the Sunday before a performance, you are welcome to join us if your busy schedule will allow. Sal’s in charge of finding a space, she can add you to the email list.” House finds himself at a loss for words again this evening. He nods solemnly before he hands one of his beaten up and rarely used business cards from about five years ago over to Sal.

“Weeeelp! It is bedtime for cripples. Later Hepcats.” And House stands up and makes his way to the bar as quickly as possible to close out his tab (for one single drink the entire time, and two 7 Ups to keep his hands busy) and he wonders what has happened to his old habit of drinking until he had no idea how’d he’d get home other than dialing Wilson and relying on his pathological need to rescue House.

After what happened with Amber, he knew that bridge hadn’t just been torched, it had been obliterated by an earthquake changing the entire direction of the very river and no bridge could replace it. House runs his left hand through his short hair and thinks his metaphor may have gotten a bit too detailed as he calls for a cab to take him back to his safe and familiar abode on Baker street.

The light switch illuminates his apartment, which looks like an interior designer selected it for a spread in a men’s magazine. His masculine dark furniture, hints of brass and smooth greys all seem so comforting to him. Overflowing bookshelves which no longer hold any of his stashes; Nolan made him identify each and every one in front of him and Wilson to witness the removal of the chemical crutch that he had clung to for so many years. Swept up in the current of rehab, he even disclosed his secret bathroom stash and now all the remains is a niche in the wall.

House then feels a flood of emptiness roaring towards him as he staggers to the couch. Then, something shifts a millimeter to the left almost undetectable. He finds himself closing his eyes as he connects with his breath. _Inhale – two, three, four. Hold. Exhale – four, three, two, one._

House repeats his breathing exercise for the next few minutes until he feels that there is no flood and nor emptiness to envelop and drown him. He opens his eyes as he looks up at the clock just after eleven. _More than enough time_ , the thought floats into his mind and he slowly stands up from the couch. The closet is only a few steps away, and he hangs up his coat and his blazer. A few more steps and he’s in the kitchen where he can put on the kettle. As the water comes to a quiet boil, he pours a cup of chamomile tea and fills a hot water bottle for his leg. While the tea steeps and the water cools in the bottle, he washes his face in the bathroom wiping away the thin sheen of sweat that had started to form as the panic attack fades into the background. 

With a fresh face, he looks at himself in the mirror. His blue eyes still have their sharp edges and attention to detail, but his hair is far more grey than brown, and he sees the toll his addiction has taken on his appearance. He traces a wrinkle down his cheek, even though he’s put Wilson through hell more than once, it is clear that his best friend has taken better care of himself – likely related to not having had an addiction to Vicodin. It may also have something to do with that pesky need to care for others and that he’d have to take care of himself so that he could – care for others. Or it might be his rather complex grooming routine. Wilson’s bathroom is a dizzying array of face washes, exfoliants, moisturizers, wrinkle creams, sunscreen, hair products, and more bath bombs, oils, and salts than that smelly hippy store, LUSH, has in stock.

But House nods to himself to get him back to the kitchen for his tea and to take care of his leg. He needs to be in tip-top shape by Monday, since another work week means many more opportunities to steal Wilson’s fries, put soymilk in his coffee instead of regular milk and make it clear that Wilson is going to help him make the best pumpkin macaroons that Cuddy and Lucas have ever seen in their lives. As the evening slides into deeper night, House is comfortably asleep in his large ornate bed, heating pad soothing his leg while he dreams of playing with Sal as they cover his entire collection of blues classics on vinyl.

* * *

Wilson wakes up naturally Sunday morning. Careful not to wake sleeping human and feline bedfellows, he lays in bed as he thinks about his day. He’ll have to go grocery shopping making sure to pick up ingredients for a pumpkin pie. Just because House is making super fancy pumpkin macaroons doesn’t mean he can party like it is 1950-something like House said.

As his girlfriend moves in her sleep, he glances over at her in the dim dawn light. She is dealing incredibly well with House and he is also glad that House wasn’t too over the top yesterday. It was fascinating to watch House enjoy himself and he’s totally interested in that bass player in the band. Perhaps this time House joined the band for drinks? Wilson smiles to himself and prays to any element of the universe that could be listening for House to have a shot at a more mature relationship. In retrospect, when he tried to see what would happen with Cameron, he was both protective of House by warning Cameron not to hurt House yet encouraging House to go for it. God, what was he really thinking back then? Oh, yeah - he was avoiding his third marriage that was failing and hanging out with House was better than facing another awkward moment with Julie. . .

Shaking his head and running his hand over his face he sighs and tries to get him back to the present moment. He shouldn’t dwell on such negative things and he rolls over and spoons his girlfriend. She stirs slightly and he relaxes as he smells her and listens to her steady breathing as he starts to fall back asleep . . .

The bright and chipper meow wakes both of them up and she seems surprised how he had glued himself to her back. “I got it.” She sits up as Keith leaps off the bed leading her to his empty bowl. After a trip to the bathroom she returns to bed and half-awake snuggles up to him. “You are soooo warm.” He pulls her in closer and sighs as she settles on his chest and his left-hand tangles into her hair, playing with it.

“Though, you lied about something to me.” She only glances up at his face and he seems confused. Noticing his perplexed expression, she clarifies, “You said you slept in the nude. Doctor James Wilson, you always wear pajamas.”

He looks at her as he laughs lightly, “You got me there. I was trying to be silly with you but curse your analytical mind and better than average memory.” She smiles at him before snuggling into his chest.

“Well, I’m fine with you wearing pajamas.” She pauses a moment before continuing, “I mean if it concerns you.” Now, Wilson is giggling in delight, it is a prime example of a hyper analytical person being supportive and it makes him feel secure in his relationship with her. Her blunt awkwardness is something he can deal with; he's had years of training with House.

Eventually, they get up and she decides to be exciting to make huevos rancheros for breakfast. They divide and conquer the chopping of veggies and tomatoes and to prepare a delicious and much healthier than restaurant style breakfast (you know, without the lard or massive amounts of cheese). He showers and puts on a weekend casual outfit of a crewneck sweater over a t-shirt and one of his boring pairs of jeans, but still with matching socks. With his public errands to run, his hair is still styled for its swooshing best.

In contrast, his girlfriend seems to be sorting clothing to wash and pulls out a suitcase to start to visualize what will go in it. Her timing is completely reasonable, she has to go to work Tuesday, so it should be packed by tomorrow evening at the latest. He falls a little bit more for her, she’d likely be a great person to travel with; organized, packed, ready for planned things, but also prepared enough for something spontaneous. 

Realizing that he has his own laundry and shopping to do, he packs up his overnight bag and borrows her tablet to look up what he needs for pumpkin pie and writes up a grocery list for regular items.

She skips showering and has changed into an old t-shirt and jeans as she begins to prepare to clean her apartment. Her reasoning is that she wants to leave a fairly clean apartment, so that when she comes back, it won’t be too gross. Wilson swallows in response to it since, it is so – so logical. He used to do the same thing before he could afford to pay someone to clean his place. They briefly discuss the logic for a decent household cleaning before travel. 

He seems sad to go, but he lets her know that he’s got his own errands and laundry to do. She smiles and walks over to a small bowl on the bookshelf hear the door where she fishes out the spare set of keys, that she lent him previously. With a long kiss and tight hug, he puts them in his pocket, and he feels sad he won’t see her for the next few days.

“I’ll make sure to call or text you when I arrive on Tuesday evening. Have a good day running errands.” She smiles at him and it is clear that she’s feeling comfortable enough with him to know that he’d like to hear back from her as she travels.

Wilson puts on his coat, scarf, and gloves and exits with his bag. He smiles and tells her to have a good day and he’ll be looking forward to when she’s back. A blush appears on her face as she quickly turns away.

The rest of the day is productive; groceries are purchased, laundry is washed, dried and folded. He preps things for making the pie on Tuesday evening and cooks a large dinner that will last for the next few days. The last thing he does is to call home and talk to his parents and brother. He won’t be home for Thanksgiving, but this is a good time to touch base with them and he tells them that he’s on call around the holiday and he’ll only have time to celebrate with his friends from PPTH. He does ask about what the plans for Hanukkah are since House will definitely not want to tag along with him and his mom gives him the details for when they are having dinner and what she’ll tell him what to possibly bring.

* * *

As his alarm goes off, Wilson flails as he tries to his snooze button without looking at it. It isn’t the best method, but a good thud followed by literal radio silence tells him he’s got a good nine minutes before he’ll be greeted by Morning Edition, again.

He rolls back over to the center of the bed feeling that it is larger than he remembers. A queen size mattress has been more than enough for him to spread out, but he is alone and missing the warmth of others in bed (yes, he’s even thinking about Keith, that cat is too adorable sleeping on the bed throughout the night). Wilson rolls around trying to capture the warmth that isn’t there until his alarm goes off again and he sighs loudly enough that he’s certain his neighbors could hear. Pulled up by his sheer willpower, he sits up and ruffles his hair before sliding his feet into warm slippers, he grabs a robe off the door, and he goes to the bathroom before shuffling into the kitchen to start the coffee maker and have some toast.

The forecast is cold and there is a little bit of condensation on his large windows. Outside, a dusting of frost covers everything, and the puddles show the delicate feathering of ice. Sweater day, Wilson thinks, and he pulls out his personal favorite outfit of a dark grey v-neck sweater with his blue and orange striped tie, blue gingham dress shirt and black suit.

Work is work; House finds him during lunch having resolved his case early this morning. Needing to gloat at his victory over puzzling medical questions, he celebrates by getting cheeseburger and fries on Wilson’s dime. He performs his Clinic duty making sure to politely interact with the nursing staff and gets at least a few smiles from his two younger crushes after his relationship status went public last week.

Before heading out, he swings by Susan to sort out what the schedule looks like around Hanukkah. He won’t be able to take that much time off since he had already scheduled to have his vacation around Christmas, not realizing what he’d even do yet. Some of it will definitely be spent with House, binging TV shows, eating snacks and maybe even playing video games where House will trounce his ass.

Concerned that his pumpkin pie, may not work out (a man should always be prepared) he swings by a local high-end chocolate shop to purchase some dark chocolate for Cuddy and Lucas as hosts. A cute girl is working the floor and asks him if he’d need any assistance, with her on brand apron and retro uniform. Feeling lazy, he lets her go through her whole spiel as he nods and smiles at all of the right times. Suddenly he’s distracted by the vibration of his phone in his coat pocket as the default ring is muffled by all of the layers of clothing surrounding it. 

As politely and courteously as possible, he excuses himself and lets the clerk know he’ll be right with her. What catches his attention even more is that his girlfriend is calling. “What’s up?” he tries so hard to remain calm, but with few calls from her, he always thinks it is an emergency. “Hey, so sorry to bother you like this. I fucked up and forgot to pick up a hostess gift for Thanksgiving for my Aunt’s sister. Any suggestion where I can find something tonight? I need to drive directly to Newark from work tomorrow.”

Wilson ruffles his hair with his right hand as he paces quickly in the store, “I guess it would depend what you are looking for? Any other information?” he makes sure to smile and wave at the store clerk with his right hand while on the phone to let her know he’ll be right back.

“Something small and edible would be best, I need to fit it in my suitcase and not break easily either. About twenty to thirty bucks max.” Her reply is all that he needs to know, he’s already got her solution – all around him.

“Okay, got it. I’ll take care of it and drop by your place after supper tonight.” Wilson feels like the hero of the hour and smiles to himself.

His girlfriend sounds relived and shocked, “Really? It isn’t a hassle?” Wilson smiles to himself further, “Oh no, it actually works out perfectly. Don’t worry, I’ll see you in a bit.” With that they conclude their conversation and he’s able to return to the keen store clerk.

He profusely apologies for the interruption and asks her to continue describing the various gift packs with their options. He knows that Cuddy is all about rich and creamy candies, so he chooses the caramel set; milk and dark chocolate with caramel alone or with sea salt. For his girlfriend’s gift he asks the clerk what the most popular set sold is? He’s looking for the one the broadest appeal. With confidence, she walks him to the elegantly arranged display with the three-flavor set; dark chocolate, all fair trade to create a sweet, sour, and spicy combination. It the sweet option contains dried cherries, sour is made with yuzu and the spicy chocolate contains curry. It also conveniently retails for twenty-five dollars plus tax. 

Handing over his credit card, the clerk cheerfully swipes it as he is able to sign the receipt as he neatly folds up the customer copy placing it in his wallet. The rustic packaging adds to the appeal of both gift boxes and he accepts the bag with a giant smile.

Wilson’s stomach rumbles and he eats supper before driving over to deliver the last-minute chocolate offering for her Thanksgiving gathering. He uses the spare key to enter the building but still knocks on her door. She opens the door smiling in relief as Keith greets Wilson with a mew and rubs his legs before returning to the living room windows to watch the traffic.

He takes his shoes and coat off while she pours hot water for evening tea. “I’m so sorry to put you on the spot about this. I can’t believe this slipped my mind, I only remembered as I was packing my socks into the suitcase.” She honestly looks like she asked too much from him and he gives her a comforting hug. 

“No worries. It was serendipitous; I was also out picking up a gift for Cuddy and Lucas when you called.” He releases her and picks up the bag. “Taa-daaa.” His right hand makes a flourish to impress Vanna White in front of the package, before he holds it out for her to take.

She accepts it and examines the chocolate gift pack turning it over in her hands. A look of relief and awe covers her face while she examines it further, “This is perfect! Small, high quality, food; it won’t take up space.” She then looks up at him and her eyes are sincere as she gives him a huge hug with the package still in her left hand. “Thank you so much. I don’t even know what else to say.” He hugs her back and sneaks a kiss on her cheek. However, his attempt at being romantic is defeated by her analytical mind, “Oh. How much do I owe you?” and she’s already walking to her bag to find her wallet. 

Drat, he thinks, how does he squeeze in some last-minute nookie . . . and that was a horrendously outdated reference and he sighs before replying. He quickly composes himself, “It was twenty-five plus tax. If you just gave me twenty-five even, it would be fine.”

She rustles through her wallet, “Gah, I rarely have cash, but I swung by the bank today to have some bills for traveling tomorrow.” Her face is furrowed as she counts the bills. “I have the curse of the twenty; you have a ten? I can give you thirty for now.”

Quickly, he flips through his own wallet spotting a ten. “I do, you just want to give me forty?” She nods and they exchange the bills. “I’m almost done packing, but I was taking a break for some tea. Want some?”

Does he ever, ‘want some tea.’ And more. She pours him a cup and they settle onto the couch as her stereo plays in the background and a song tickles his mind that he heard it before . . .

**_Mockingbird sings  
  
_ **

**_Middle of the night_ **

****

Wilson furrows his brown and cocks his ear hoping he’ll identify why it is so familiar leaning into her by accident. “I’ve heard this before, but I can’t place where.” He looks at her hoping that she can assist him.

“Neko Case. I had it in the CD deck on Saturday, I just haven’t bothered to change out the CDs.” She looks at him waiting to see where he’s going with it.

He ruffles his hair and sips his tea before replying, “Her voice is very – intoxicating. Life she’s pulling you along with her into a dream.” 

She nudges him playfully, “That is a very poetic way to describe her music, but yes, you get sucked into her voice. If you want, you can borrow the CD since I’ll be gone, and it is in the stereo.” 

He nods and he’s ninety-nine point nine percent sure he’ll take her up on her offer. He leans into her side and sighs as she carefully drinks her tea, her eyes peering at him over the mug. Pushing his offensive, he leans so that his rests in her lap and smiles up at her. Her hand settles into his hair as the stereo still plays in the background and his eyes flutter shut and Neko Case’s voice softly floats in the room;

**_But my courage is roaring like the sound of the sun  
'Cause it's vain about its mane  
And will reveal  
I'm an animal  
You're an animal too_ **

As the verse ends, he feels her move above him and she leans over him to kiss him on the lips. Within mere seconds, he’s rolled over onto his back and she settles on top of him as they kiss with a sense of urgency. Things are a blur and he finds himself on the couch sweaty and half naked as she lays above him. It is only then that he notices that they are surrounded by the sound of – crickets? Or is it frogs, over the stereo. 

“Ah, CD is on the final track, about half an hour of frogs in the summer. Apparently, she didn’t want to ‘waste’ the space on her album, so she made it the final track.” His girlfriend then peels herself from him and smiles. “As much as I’d love to stay here on the couch with you, I really need to finish packing and you are **_too damn_** distracting.”

Wilson blushes unexpectedly, he hasn’t been told he’s distracting by a woman in years. He understands her need and tries to sulk not too much, so she doesn’t feel guilty for kicking him out. A quick search of the living room allows him to collect his sweater, shirt, tie and pants. Even though his only destination is his condo, he puts all of his clothing back on returning to his proper and polished exterior image.

He puts on his outerwear and gives her one last kiss and hug before he heads out, “Love you. And make sure to call me when you are back in Princeton on Saturday.”

She nods and smiles at him, “Don’t worry, I will certainly do so. You take care and have a nice Thanksgiving with House and Cuddy. I’ll be thinking of you.” and she gets the last ‘word’ in as she gives him a kiss on the cheek while herding him out the door.

Wilson’s left hand instinctively goes to his cheek and he stands there for a pause in the hallway. Butterflies fill his stomach and he ruffles his hair while walking to his parked car before driving back to his condo on cloud nine.

The following day of work is busy as patients come for early consults due to the holiday and House spends the morning avoiding Clinic duty while trying to create a small pumpkin trebuchet to launch pumpkins off of their shared outdoor patio. Before an innocent bystander or bystanders are sent to the Clinic with pumpkin projectile injuries, he hops over the small wall and sprint off with all of the small festive gourds House has in a paper shopping bag. 

All House can do is insult him as he exits via House’s own departmental office, “Wilson! Didn’t you get the memo? It’s decorative gourd season, motherfuckers!” 

Thankfully, as Wilson dashes out of Diagnostics, Cuddy is heading directly for House with select words. He only hears the start as the door shuts on the fishbowl office as she opens the door to the patio. “HOUSE! What is this about a pumpkin trebuchet that is aimed at the sidewalk that leads to the main entrance? Do you want to return to the Clinic duty you were excused from that you earned with your overtime?”

Thirteen finds him as he takes all of the cute little decorative pumpkins to hand out to his staff to get them out of the hospital and away from House. “Hey Wilson. Can you just hand over a few pumpkins?” Her face is blank, he will never read her poker face. 

“What are you going to do with them? House won’t like you more if you ‘rescue’ his ammunition.” Wilson puts the bag down on the counter and puts his hands on his hips as he looks at her.

Thirteen looks away, fixes her hair before returning to answer his question with a shrug exaggerated by her whitecoat. “House and I are going to launch them from the trebuchet. Don’t worry, we’ll do it after hours tonight.” She holds her hands open to him for Wilson to place a select few seasonally appropriate gourds.

Wilson sighs as he looks away from her sincere gaze. “Fine. I’ll give you three and you had better swear to me that you launch them after 8pm.” His voice is gravely serious, and he points at her with his right hand for emphasis. If she doesn’t follow his instructions, he wants her to know that she’s lost his trust.

Thirteen nods, “I understand. No humans will be harmed during the operation of pumpkin trebuchet 2.0.” He arches an eyebrow as she revealed that this was not the first version of this small gourd medieval siege engine . . . and he hands over exactly three pumpkins.

On his way home to make his banal and derivative dessert for Thursday, he pokes his head in House’s office where he’s rocking out to 60s cover bands. “I’ll see you tomorrow House. What time are we making the macaroons?”

House makes a cringy face as he plays air guitar. “I’m off at three. Be at my place by five to help with filling prep.” House then returns to air guitar and Wilson lets the door slowly shut.

After leftovers, Wilson puts on a t-shirt and sweatpants and prepared to get dirty baking. He could have bought pie crust, but no, he’s committed to making it from scratch. While his crust rests, he heads over to feed Keith supper, brush him and give a few kitty treats. When the key enters the lock, he’s greeted with a needy meow and he notices a look of hesitation from Keith. He bends down to pet him and makes sure Keith’s needs are met. Just as he is about to leave, he remembers the Neko Case CD and he ejects it from the CD player and takes it back with him.

Gently, he tells Keith he’ll be back tomorrow morning to feed him and clean his litter box even though Keith is currently licking his crotch with great focus.

Back at his condo, he preheats the oven and mixes the filling. While the pie bakes, he packs his lunch for tomorrow, pulls out tomorrow’s outfit and even drinks a cup of tea. As he’s waiting a ping informs him that he has a new text message. 

**_Hey, just got to my brother’s place._ **

**_Flight was fine and I’ll relax tomorrow._ **

**_Thanks again for the chocolates!_ **

**_Give Keith lots of pets._ **

He smiles and is glad to hear she made it back home safely. The oven timer alerts him to check the pie and he pulls it out with his oven mitts. It passes the toothpick test and he places it on a cooling rack to rest. 

The then composes a quick text.

**_Glad to hear you arrived safely._ **

**_I just finished baking a pumpkin pie._ **

He anticipates that this will be the end of their exchange until his phone dings again.

**_Picture?_ **

Wilson furrows his brow as he is surprised at how interested she is in his pie. Not to disappoint, he snaps a shot of it and sends it to her. With a soft swoosh sound, the message is sent.

Her reply is swift.

**_Nice._ **

**_Well, I’m exhausted so, I’m off to bed. Have a good one._ **

Reigning in all temptation, he opts for a polite and chaste reply.

**_You too. Night._ **

And it is then that Wilson realizes it is almost ten and he still has a full day of work tomorrow. He showers and gets into bed. To fight the sensation of emptiness, he pulls a pillow so that he can wedge it behind his back to fill his bed while he lays there alone. It isn’t the same as sharing a bed with someone else, but it is at least more comforting, and he sighs as he finds himself drifting off to sleep as he wonders where she is sleeping.

Wednesday drags and Wilson finds himself roaming the halls between his few appointments and rounds. He has tomorrow and Friday off, so any paperwork won’t demand his attention until Monday at the earliest. Taub completes his Clinic duty and heads out around lunchtime since he’s heading out of town to spend the holiday with his wife’s family in Western Pennsylvania. Foreman is also heading down to visit his Dad begrudgingly, but figures it is better than staying in Princeton alone. Chase no longer tied to Cameron, volunteered to work Thursday and Friday, covering Clinic duty and also helps the hospital by having a surgeon on hand while others are spending their time with family. Thirteen also volunteered to work on Thursday helping out in the ER and declined to state what she would do on Friday, other than it would be personal.

Reminded again of his time in school he almost leaps out of his desk when it is fifteen minutes to five. He packs up, checks in with the main Oncology desk, wishes everyone a Happy Thanksgiving and heads out to the garage. He stops by to feed Keith supper and he’ll return later for the kitty treats and brushing.

The smell of House’s baking drifts out into the hallway of his building and he lets himself in. The pre-game show for a Flyers-Habs game is on the TV and House has a beer on the counter mainly untouched as he carefully scoops each half of the baked macaroons off of the parchment paper onto a wire cooling rack. House is wearing a floral apron which looks vaguely familiar, which may have been folded it up in a drawer of Amber’s place which he thought he had donated when they moved into the condo. Not like Amber ever used it, but still he’s surprised that House is careful enough to think to wear the apron in the first place. With House wanting to appear rough around the edges.

“Perfect timing Wilson! You are going to start by helping me soften the cream cheese filling.” House smiles at him and gestures to a bowl and a huge cold block of cream cheese.

Before he progresses to assist, he rolls up his sleeves and washes his hands. “Reporting for duty sir.” Wilson’s statement is silly and House smirks as he takes a swig of his beer. 

“Cadet, you are to start by mixing the cream cheese with the wooden spoon.” House then pulls out more ingredients to fold into the cream cheese and Wilson dedicates himself to becoming a human powered mixer.

And the evening progresses as they shoot the shit. Wilson is about to order a pizza when House scoffs at him. He pulls out a small dish of lasagna from the fridge and asks how much he’d like. They comment on the hockey game while waiting of the macaroons to become cool enough to assemble. Not wanting to miss the third period as they remain tied 1-1, likely heading to overtime, House places a Tupperware container in front of them and he and Wilson spread the cinnamon and clove cream cheese between each half of the pastries to create a full macaroon. House is very insistent that the filling be the correct thickness and he even pulls a ruler out to double check the first few from Wilson. 

Once trusting Wilson’s spreading skills, they are able to fall into a warm silence which is only disrupted when House cries out in anguish as the Habs pull off a last-minute win by pulling the goalie and a shot to the five hole. “Goddammit.” House seems more peeved that normal.

“What’s up, have money riding on tonight’s game?” Wilson laughs since House isn’t one to bet on sports. What color a patient’s underwear is, which of his team members is correct, what Cuddy will do the next time he destroys the MRI . . .

House sighs and scratches his head. “Yeah – I actually had a bet with Taub. Stupid Habs fan.” Wilson looks at House sympathetically, “Well hopefully, you aren’t down all that much.” He figures it is around one-hundred or so, since most bets are between twenty to that within his department. 

“Oh no,” House rolls his eyes as he returns to spreading the filling with exactness, “I bet him his Monday morning Clinic hours. Ugh, now I’m going to have to be in by eight on Monday!”

Wilson prevents a gasp of shock as he instead focuses on assembling a pumpkin macaroon, but some of the filling was stuck on his hand and it pops out and rolls under the couch. “Shit.” He then stoops down and manages to fish it out. It is cleaner than he anticipated for the floor under House’s couch, but still now covered in a dirt and a dust bunny has fused with the filling on the sides. Realizing he’ll continue to have butter fingers with some of the filling on his hands, he tosses it away in the kitchen wastebasket and washes his hands in the bathroom. 

Only then can he let his calm façade drop as he looks into House’s small vanity in disbelief. House bet with a team member with Clinic hours? Not money? His therapist is **_not being paid nearly enough_** if this is what he’s helped House reach. And he’s going to actually perform said Clinic hours on Monday. Wilson flicks his face and it hurts – he’s not dreaming. 

Not wanting to have House pick up on his small moment of reflection, he spins the toilet paper roll loudly, tears of a small sheet, flushes twice and lights a match to cover his tracks. After washing his hands, a second time, he walks out to the living room as few macaroons remain to be assembled and the next game is the Canucks versus the Flames for the Mountain-Pacific time zone.

“That was quite the dump. Perhaps a little too much fiber in the diet?” House glances at him as Wilson lets him complete the task. It is then that Wilson realizes that he should head off to take care of Keith before heading home from the Historic district. 

He stands and stretches, “Need help with anything before I head out?” 

House puts the lid on the Tupperware container and slowly walks to his kitchen. “Just help me load the dishwasher and I’ll let you go to feed your girlfriend’s cat. Though he seems quite pampered with supper and a late evening snack.”

Wilson shrugs with his hands in his pockets, “What can I say; I can’t say no to the needs of others.” He smirks though as he puts on his coat after rinsing the dishes and loading the dishwasher for maximum cleaning effectiveness. “I will say, you could learn a thing or two from Keith.” House looks at him with interest and allows for Wilson to continue.

“At least Keith keeps a regular schedule, seven days a week, three hundred and sixty-five days a year.” His hand on the door he turns back to House.

“Bah – that’s a load of shit. You love me because I’m so unpredictable Jimmy.” House smiles at him as he fidgets with his cane.

“Night House. Pick you up at two tomorrow to be at Cuddy’s by two-thirty? Dinner is at four.” Wilson hangs in the door frame with his cocked at his best friend.

“Sounds good. Later Wilson.” House turns to tidy up the coffee table and Wilson shuts the door behind him.

Keith is happy to see him around ten and he brushes his long coat until he makes it clear, brushing time is over and it is kitty treat and kibble time. Wilson does one last check on the litter box and heads out for the evening. “Later Keith. I’ll see you tomorrow morning.”

Thanksgiving morning, Wilson moves slowly. The temperature dropped overnight; he checks that his thermostat reads sixty-two degrees when he shuffles down the hall. A quick adjustment gets the heat to switch on bringing it to a more bearable sixty-six and he is excited that he can wear another sweater. It is around six-thirty, he throws on tennis shoes, sweatpants and a sweater and heads over to feed Keith. Stifling a large yawn, he shivers as his car comes up to temperature. As he pulls out onto the street where he notices a dusting of snow over everything. It glows with that softness that is pre-dawn making things visually pop.

Keith is thrilled to see him, and he realizes he should make a cup of coffee before heading back to his condo. The warmth of the coffee helps him beat the chill and after watching Keith inhale his kibble. He pets him as he jumps to the window to watch the silent street.

As he turns his car on it is then that he waits for a single car to pass by, and he does a double take. It is House heading back to his apartment, with a bright purple yoga mat on the seat next to him. **_House is taking a yoga class???? How did he miss this????_**

Wilson has another moment where he thinks he’s dreaming but based on how he wants to shower to wake up/warm up it must be real. At least it looks like House didn’t notice him since he hadn’t turned on the car just yet.

Thanksgiving morning for Wilson is textbook; he is able to make a light breakfast of toast and yogurt before he showers. Even though he is friends with Cuddy, she is still his boss, so he puts on his salmon and cream shirt and wears his oatmeal sweater over it with a pair of jeans. Hair styled and face well moisturized for the winter weather; he watches part of the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day parade as he cleans up the kitchen and preps his canvas bag for the chocolate and pumpkin pie carefully protected in saran wrap and aluminum foil. A pie server and single can of light reddi-whip in the fridge are also on his handwritten note of things to put in the bag before he picks up House.

Noon rolls around and he turns off the TV and makes a pot of coffee, to prepare himself for the indulgences that are to occur. He finds the silence of his condo stifling and he recalls the Neko Case CD in the car. He heads to the garage and places the disc in his complicated media system that House insisted was critical to enjoyment of all sounds. He lays down on the couch and closes his eyes as he listens, really listens and begins to feel the emotion of her voice. In finding silence he needed to fill it to quiet his mind. All of a sudden, he’s pulled into the moment as he feels goosebumps as a song plays.

It is the song that has the line about the Mockingbird; he realizes it is now linked to laying on the couch with his girlfriend and not the fact that they had sex afterwards, instead, it recalls that feeling of anticipation as he lay across her lap, her hands in his hair gently touching his scalp.

**_Is this how House feels all the time when music connects with him? Is this how his girlfriend feels?_ **

He’s left without answers at the present, but when he sees her, she’ll be the first person he asks. Personal breakthrough over, Wilson sits up and checks the time, gasping as he has about ten minutes before he’s to pick up House. Using his list as a guide he packs up everything and puts on his winter coat, scarf and navy blue Keds as he heads down to the garage.

House is relaxing on his couch as jazz plays in the background. He asks Wilson to grab the container full of macaroons as he goes to the bathroom. In a rare instance, he notices that House is wearing one of the few ties in his collection. It is the red patterned one with a blue dress shirt and a navy-suit coat and jeans. Wilson’s eyebrows communicate his surprise and before he can even comment, House is addressing it, “I haven’t met Cuddy’s sister or extended family. The best defense is a good offense.” Wilson nods again wondering if he’s in some sort of opposite world, recalling House spotted with a yoga mat.

He drives them and they enter Cuddy’s small home bearing many gifts. Lucas leads them to a spare room to drop off their coats and only then does House notice that Wilson isn’t wearing a tie. “ _Wilson!_ ” House’s voice is a hissed whisper, “Of all the days of the year, today you aren’t wearing a tie! You were supposed to wear one in solidarity with me!” 

Wilson ruffles his hair and looks at the floor, before he smirks, “Well thanks for the advance memo. If it bothers you that much, you can always take the tie off.” House’s reply is a grunt and they return to the kitchen to chat with Cuddy’s sister and her family as Lucas helps out prepping the turkey and House drifts off to assist him and catch up on any sort of private investigator gossip.

The afternoon is pleasant, and Wilson goes with his golden boy oncologist autopilot when chatting with others and their small group enjoys a calm dinner. Lucas seems quite pleased and Wilson keeps his wine intake to a low amount to make sure he can drive later, worried the weather might become icy after the melted snow refreezes. He notices how House sips his own wine very slowly and Lucas even makes sure that when House’s glass is nearly empty, he asks House if he’d like to change to the red. House nods and drinks but really doesn’t become as intoxicated as usual. Wilson wonders if the ‘red’ is actually grape juice, but that would be far too, well, responsible for House.

After turkey, stuffing, mashed potatoes, roasted Brussel sprouts, green beans and of course a side of cranberry sauce, everyone takes a break and Wilson offers to help Cuddy clean up feeling not useful enough. The warmth results in him rolling up his sleeves and when he emerges from the kitchen, House is joking around with Lucas and Rachel his tie finally removed and dress shirt open to reveal a graphic tee underneath. They are playing some sort of game with blocks and House seems almost a little too competitive in their tower building exercise. 

House and Lucas get wound up as they start to compete with each other with Rachel’s toys and Cuddy gets them back in line with a single glance. A pot of coffee begins to brew, and the aroma of French roast brings everyone back for dessert. Cuddy and her sister pull out dessert plates while Wilson keeps his hands busy by plating out House’s macaroons on a seasonally appropriate platter and the pumpkin pie.

Cuddy, Lucas and the rest of the guests are in awe of the homemade desserts brought by Wilson and House. House describes in great detail the pumpkin macaroons and looks proud of his culinary feat. He also remarks that Wilson assisted in the cream cheese filling, but he’s disappointed that Wilson made a pumpkin pie without telling him.

Cuddy clears her throat before telling House that she asked for Wilson to bring a pumpkin pie as well. Wilson smugly looks at House and he pouts for a moment, but still asks for a piece of pie as Wilson cuts and scoops them out for the guests.

By seven, it is time to head out and he and House thank Cuddy for hosting, and he heads back to the Historic district to drop House off and feed Keith. A few blocks before his girlfriend’s place, House tells Wilson that he can feed the cat first before dropping him off. Unsure, if House just wants to hang out with Wilson more or if he’s got another plan in mind. 

Wilson agrees and he patiently waits for House as he takes the small elevator up to the second floor and Keith mews through the door. Upon entering, Wilson instructs House to remove his shoes and he reluctantly kicks off his tennis shoes while Wilson feeds Keith and takes care of his basic needs. 

House has drifted off and is looking at the bookshelf full of graphic novels on her shelves and his eyes skim over the titles on the spines of the books.

While rinsing out the water bowl in the sink, Wilson hears a pure laugh from House, and he walks out to see House standing next to the bookshelf holding a book in one hand and reading a piece of paper.

“Wilson, check this out.” House’s eyes are sparkling with delight as he takes the paper from House’s hand and House puts the book back on the shelf looking for another title. The note is written in a messy print cursive on a yellow legal pad paper.

**House – I think you’d enjoy another book better than this one. As long as Wilson is with you, you can read it at my place, but you cannot borrow it. I sense you are terrible at returning borrowed books.**

**_The Pushman_ ** **by Yohshihiro Tatsumi**

**_Paying for It_ ** **by Chester Brown**

**J – House can read them as long as he sits on the couch or chair.**

Wilson laughs as he reads the note and House finds the titles on the bookshelf. House was just out maneuvered by his girlfriend and he’s definitely impressed at her note.

“Well, I guess we could spend some time with Keith.” Wilson can’t help but shrug and he moves to put on the kettle and make a cup of tea while Keith comes to join him on the couch. House is already reading _The Pushman_ and seems quite taken with it. Not even looking up at Wilson, House addresses him, “Yo, Wilson. Either I read all of this or we shove off in an hour.”

Wilson stroking Keith’s ears only hums in reply as Keith begins to fall asleep on his lap. An hour later, House closes the book and Wilson turns off the TV as he had been watching yet another nature documentary.

Wordlessly, Wilson brushes Keith and gives him the dental treats and kibble. With little more than glances and hums and grunts, both men put on their coats and winter accessories before they depart. Keith watches House with hesitation as the exit the door and Wilson locks up and within a few minutes House is outside his place and he nods to Wilson while carrying a much lighter Tupperware container in a reusable shopping bag that Cuddy insisted, he take, “Night Wilson. See you tomorrow afternoon.”

Further hanging out planned, Wilson only replies with the necessary elements, “Night House. Bring the lasagna.”

Wilson sighs heavily as he enters his condo, but he feels good. It was a nice holiday. Before he puts on his pajamas, he sends a text to his girlfriend.

**_Happy Thanksgiving._ **

**_See you on Saturday._ **

And he then puts his phone on silent and heads to bed telling himself she’ll be back by Saturday and he drifts off dreaming of kissing her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have gone back to Neko Case's album 'Middle Cyclone' recently as it gives me some sort of comfort in these strange and stressful times. I don't have much of her back catalogue, but just a few of her albums along with The New Pornographers as well. Her voice really does capture emotions that I myself can't easily express, but definitely do feel.
> 
> I see it as a given for Wilson to want to make and enjoy pumpkin pie. He takes great pleasure on focusing on the positives of any holiday as a sort of put it forward to your fellow humans intention.
> 
> House's line about the pumpkin trebuchet 2.0 is a direct reference to my all time favorite essay on McSweeney's internet tendency; 
> 
> 'It's decorative gourd season, motherfuckers' by Colin Nissan. 
> 
> https://www.mcsweeneys.net/articles/its-decorative-gourd-season-motherfuckers
> 
> If I didn't already have more mugs than I could drink all of my coffee and herbal tea combined with, I'd purchase the corresponding mug, but first world mug hording problems.


	20. chicken soup for the soul

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wilson keeps himself busy while his girlfriend is out of town for the holiday. Events lead to a trope which Wilson would absolutely excel at, so prepare for much more Wilson fluff. I'm here for the fluff - all the fluff.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is my first sickfic chapter! Enjoy the Wilson-ness and lots of chicken broth and tea. I have to admit, it was fun to be so indulgent in this trope.

Your trip back home for Thanksgiving is uneventful. After working a full day, you drove to Newark Airport, parked your car and made your way through security to your gate and then eventually landed at the regional airport. Your brother picks you up and the two of you get take-out dinner before heading to his place.

As you put your stuff down in the guest room, you send Wilson a quick text telling him you’ve arrived safely, thanking him one last time for the chocolates and of course reminding him to pet Keith. His reply is almost immediate, and he informs you he is making a pumpkin pie which seems well, soooooo very Wilson. You playfully demand a picture which he sends along. A yawn tells you after a full day of work and a flight it is time for bed, and you excuse yourself.

Wednesday, you visit with your parents and spend the time relaxing and just socializing with your family. Thanksgiving for you is a rather easy affair and your entire family heads north to your Aunt’s sister’s place on the lake. She’s been hosting Thanksgiving dinners for years and is pleased with your small gift of chocolate. With the new job, most people are asking you about Princeton, what is like to work for a large multi-national corporation and if Jersey doesn’t suck as much as the media implies that it does. No one asks you about your personal life and you are happy about that. It isn’t that you are opposed to disclosing your relationship status _per se_ , but you only met Wilson in September and even though things seem serious and different you aren’t quite ready to go public about things. The dinner is delicious as usual, and you are indeed thankful for the chance to see some of your extended family.

Only in private with your brother do you mention anything of potentially seeing someone, but you make it clear it is early and you are unsure what it means. As the two of you are enjoying a beer while hanging out before going to bed, you phone pings. 

Wilson sent you a text, all it says is Happy Thanksgiving and he’ll see you on Saturday. It is polite of him to message you and it seems that he may be missing you . . . but you wait, since you aren’t quite sure what to reply. 

Only after you’ve showered and head off to bed do you pull out your phone. You couldn’t think of anything else to say that was clever, so you go with simple.

**_Happy Thanksgiving to you as well._ **

**_I hope you had a pleasant time with House and Cuddy._ **

**_I should be back at my place by 5pm on Saturday._ **

The message goes off into the electronic wireless ether and you put your phone on night mode and fall asleep.

Friday morning you sleep in and emerge before your brother is awake to make coffee and eat some cereal. Today’s activity is to go to the art museum with your family and visit more relatives. The day also flies by and again, most questions are about your new job, Princeton and the like. You are relived you won’t have to talk about Wilson just yet, but he’ll likely be a topic of conversation at Christmas time . . .

Saturday morning you feel exhausted as you get up and pack your suitcase to return back to Princeton and visit with your parents in the morning. Your local regional airport isn’t too busy, and things again proceed smoothly, but you can feel yourself coming down with a cold. With loads of tissues and realizing you can feel a fever and chills coming on, you do the best you can. You drink a hot tea and are glad for the window seat that allows you to pull your hood up on your hoodie and nap to try to make yourself less visible. When you land in Newark, you rally all the strength possible to pick up your suitcase at baggage claim and buy another hot tea with lemon and honey before taking the shuttle to long- term parking. The shock of the cost of long-term parking is enough to jolt you awake, you were spoiled by the seven dollars a day at El Paso. 

Being as cautious as possible and turning the heat up warmer than usual, you slowly make it back to your apartment as the last of your strength evaporates after you get up to your second floor apartment just before five. The sound of your keys in the door results in a mew from Keith through the door and you are so relieved to be back home. Hot tea and maybe some oatmeal and then you are going to bed early to try to sleep this off.

“Hey Keith.” You quietly greet him as he sniffs your stuff and you hang up your coat and scarf noticing Wilson’s coat and shoes already neatly arranged.

“Oh hey, you are back a little early.” Wilson pokes his head out from your tiny kitchen where he holds a knife and a carrot. He puts the items down and as he gets closer his excited smile drops and he’s frowning at you with a furrowed brow as the back of his left hand reaches out and touches your flushed forehead. His hand feels cool, which is not good since he’s always warmer than you are. Concerned he makes a small gasp and you have a feeling that you won’t escape the attention of Wilson for the next little while.

* * *

The day after Thanksgiving, Wilson sleeps in as all of the food from the day before was more than enough for his body to handle. When he finally gets up, he notices his girlfriend replied to his text after he went to bed. She was surprisingly not very forthcoming on the details, but it looks like she had a later evening than he did.

He putzes around in his pajamas until mid-morning when House shows up at his place. Again, he’s suspicious of this early rising version of House, but this is likely something that will come up when he talks to House about the serious stuff that they’ve been dancing around for at least a year if not longer.

House settles in and they decide to make it a day of watching as many of the ‘Die Hard’ movies as they can before one of them snaps. Interestingly, House brought some of the leftover turkey from Cuddy’s place and for a break he goes about making some simple sandwiches and whips up enough for a salad with the turkey instead of chicken for tomorrow. They still manage to eat an entire bag of plain potato chips, but Wilson thinks it is okay at least this one time.

By the evening, House becomes restless and plays the organ for a bit before he heads home. Wilson lays on the couch and enjoys this unstructured time with House and draws himself a nice bubble bath. The warm water with a seasonally appropriate spiced apple and cinnamon scent makes him think about Christmas next and he’s going to need to have the talk with his girlfriend about how serious they should take Christmas. He’s more than ready and willing to buy her a fancy gift, but his gut tells him that she’s not the type of person who’d go for a big gift. Maybe they should focus on New Year’s Eve instead? They could go up to New York and stay in some fancy hotel with champagne and wear fancy clothing paired with those silly paper hats. Wilson becomes completely lost in his imagination as he sighs in the bath.

He goes to bed and snuggles with the pillows and can’t wait for her to get back tomorrow. Maybe they’ll indulge her or maybe they will just have good old, I haven’t seen you for a few days, vanilla sex?

Saturday morning, he notices how it is right around freezing. Thankfully, it isn’t forecast to snow until tomorrow afternoon, but he thinks how making soup would be a great idea. He puts on his jeans, dress shirt and a sweater over it before head heads out to feed Keith breakfast, go grocery shopping and then return to her place. To surprise her, he purchases the ingredients for chicken soup, and he’ll make it at her place before she gets back.

Keith is interested in his soup prep, and watches him from atop the kitchen table as he first brings the water to a boil with a few bullion cubes, caraway seeds, drumsticks, and celery. He likes his carrots a little crunchier so he’ll add those an hour or so before it should be done. While the soup simmers, he relaxes on the couch with Keith and reads one of her books, ‘Kitchen’ by Banana Yoshimoto. Hoping to have the soup ready for around six, he gets up and Keith steals his warm spot while he begins to peel and chop the carrots.

The sound of the key in the door alerts him to her return as Keith mews and runs to the door. Not wanting to look like a murderous carrot stalker, he turns and pokes his head out from the kitchen, knife and half chopped carrot in hand (whoops! He totally looks like a carrot murderer). Glad that she’s back, he smiles at her commenting that she’s ahead of schedule and he immediately notices that she looks unwell. Her face is flushed and a little pale on the cheeks and her movements are a bit stiff. Worried, he puts the carrot and knife down and walks up to her pressing the back of his left hand to her hot and sweaty forehead.

“You’ve got a fever! How long have you felt sick?” He’s automatically in doctor mode now. She shuffles slightly before sitting down at the kitchen table. “I started to feel ill this morning and by time I got to the airport, I could feel a cold coming on. I slept on the flight and made sure to drink tea to help me get back.” 

He immediately wants to help her; he’s never seen her this weak and vulnerable. “Okay, you just rest for right now. Shower, change into warm pajamas and I’ll put on the kettle for tea.” A timid smile from her and a nod is more than enough for him to feel better as she follows his suggestions.

Once showered and in her warmest and fluffiest pajamas, she returns to the kitchen where he gives her a cup of ginger tea with lemon, honey and ibuprofen. “It is your lucky day; I’m making chicken soup!” 

She smiles in surprise and perhaps blushes but it hard to tell with a fever. “Ah, that is some luck indeed.” She holds the steaming cup of tea between her hands and seems content with chicken soup. 

Wilson ruffles his hair before he returns to chopping the carrots and lets her know that it will be about another hour before the soup is ready. With the soup simmering on the stove, he makes sure that she is comfortable as she lays on the couch and Keith sits with her buried in blankets. The TV is on at low volume as she rests, he keeps himself busy in the kitchen and adds the kluski noodles in the last thirty minutes of cooking for that perfect bite. Large steaming hot bowls are filled with his homemade soup and he finds her asleep on the couch. Even though she’s tired, he gently wakes her and brings her the soup and she smiles, thanking him.

After the soup, she gets ready for bed taking a decongestant and she moves to her bedroom. Wilson peeks in on her and asks her what she needs for tomorrow. He has a fairly simple list of; orange juice, more orange juice, yogurt, crackers. Her last request is for him to brush Keith this evening. Before he heads out to pick up the items, he gives her a quick kiss on the forehead, still warm, but no longer burning up.

Wilson then heads back to his condo and showers before heading to bed early. He’ll pick up her requested groceries tomorrow morning. He hopes he doesn’t have whatever bug that got, since well, she was likely exposed to it before she went back home for Thanksgiving.

* * *

You wake up Sunday morning feeling less than ideal, but your fever appears to be gone and you how have a running nose and feel stiff and tired. After you got back to your apartment things are a bit of a hazy blur. Wilson immediately made you shower, drink tea and take ibuprofen. He even rather serendipitously made chicken soup unaware you were ill. Keith is waiting on your bed and mews for breakfast and you notice it is after seven. He must have sensed you weren’t feeling well. 

Placing your feet in your warm and fuzzy slippers and grabbing a hoodie, you get up to feed Keith breakfast, go to the bathroom, take some ibuprofen and then head back to bed for a bit. The sound of the kettle whistling wakes you up; you turn to see it is after nine-thirty. This time you decide to get up and stay up. 

Wilson is in the kitchen and he’s pouring cups of tea and stirring a pot of oatmeal. He turns to you and smiles, “Morning. How are you feeling?” Your voice is a little weak and you tell him you are a little better. He reaches out with his hand to feel your temperature and he relaxes, “You don’t have a fever anymore and you aren’t flushed anymore.” He turns back to stir the oatmeal a bit more and you notice groceries unpacked on the counter, crackers, a package of clementines, and a few muffins.

“Have you taken any ibuprofen yet? The orange juice and yogurt are already in the fridge.” You nod in regard to the ibuprofen and you just watch as a bowl of oatmeal appears before you accompanied by a cup of lemon ginger tea, orange juice and a plate of clementine wedges. Wilson sits down opposite of you sipping his own cup of tea and he smiles motioning for you to eat.

You slowly consume the oatmeal and alternate between the cool juice with the soothing tea. As you finish up, he smiles and ruffles his hair before taking your dirty dishes and rinsing them off. “As a doctor, I’d advise you to take a sick day tomorrow and rest up. As your boyfriend, I would definitely tell you to take a sick day and take care of yourself.” He grins but looks serious and you lightly laugh.

“Gotcha. So, both Doctor James Wilson the professional and the boyfriend both want me to rest up and take care of myself. I think I can do that.” The warm breakfast helps you to feel better and you know that as it wears off, you’ll drag a bit more. You put on the kettle for one more cup of tea to have before laying down on the couch.

Wilson cleans up and he tells you that he’s already put individual portions of the soup into the fridge and that you should make sure to have yogurt with the soup later today. You nod in reply and he begins to gather his shopping bags and puts on his winter coat. He’s off to run some errands and he needs to do a load of laundry. As anticipated, he asks if you need something later today and if he should swing by in the evening. Wanting to see if you can sleep most of it off, you tell him that you are going to crash early. He should take care of his things and if you need anything, you will call or text him. Wilson looks a little uncertain, but you tell him you really want to get to bed early. 

As you settle in on the couch with blankets and a fresh up of tea, he leans over and gives you a kiss on the forehead before he departs. While on the couch you fall asleep and when you wake up again it is late afternoon. You feel gross and you can smell the sweat and staleness of your body and clothes, but you make it a point to have soup and yogurt for supper with some tea. It gives you a few more hours of feeling okay and then you take more painkillers, and then shower. Fresh pajamas are in order and you hydrate more before heading to bed early. Not wanting to worry Wilson, you send him a text telling him you ate supper, showered and you are going to bed around eight.

* * *

Wilson doesn’t like leaving his girlfriend alone, but he’s got his own errands to run. She looked a little better this morning and he also realizes he should try to keep himself away from her just in case she’s still infectious. It is so hard to not touch her that much, but with his potentially immuno-compromised patients, it is his obligation to take care of himself. He’s not like House, avoiding interacting with his patients. 

He makes meals with some of the leftovers from Cuddy’s dinner and preps his own chicken soup, he was going to split the soup with her, but now that she’s sick, he knows she’ll likely eat that over the next few days.

Fidgeting on the couch and trying to focus on a movie, he hears his phone ping indicating a message. It is from her and he feels a little calmer.

**_Ate supper, showered, drank more tea and heading to bed. Thanks. Have a good night._ **

He sighs and begins his own evening routine as he expects a busier paperwork sort of day tomorrow.

Monday morning arrives cold and grey as flurries skuttle across the sky with a chance of the dreaded wintery mix of snow/ice/freezing rain. His phone rings as he gets ready, House needs a ride into work; he can’t ride the bike and his leg is bothering him more than usual. 

Once he’s fully dressed and styled, he puts on a pair of boots and tosses his shoes into his briefcase, causing it to bow out awkwardly. The roads aren’t terrible, but they aren’t great either and he gets to House’s place a little later than expected. After ringing House, he waits in the car as House slowly makes his way out and he’s using a more high-tech cane instead of his usual stylish type with multiple feet giving him more stability on the potentially icy sidewalk. Could it be that House is being reasonable and taking care of himself? House is even wearing a winter hat, scarf, gloves and his wool peacoat.

Wilson unlocks the door and House slowly slides into the passenger seat and sigh in pleasure at the heated seat. “Mornin’ Wilson. If there were some sort of divine power in the universe, I’d say it really hates cripples today.” House’s hand is already fiddling with the radio dial to tune it to the local classic rock station.

“Oh yes, because your ‘divine’ being apparently is a spiteful god and not a benevolent god.” Wilson smirks as he carefully pulls out of the parking spot and drives carefully to PPTH.

“Oh course! I see you finally got it.” House nods as he begins to air guitar to a Rush song and Wilson keeps his focus on the road. It is the first day of true winter weather and he’s always nervous as it takes other drivers time to remember how to, well, drive in the snow. He also hopes for a calm day and no emergencies to help cover shifts in the ER.

Turning onto the grounds of PPTH House gives him a playful tap on the arm. “Wilson! I’ll pay you hundred bucks to drive donuts in the parking lot! Bonus if you can spell out something like ‘Cuddy’s ass’.”

Wilson of course scoffs at House’s idea, “Christ House, do you want both of us to end up in the ER and with my car in the shop?” 

“Buzzkill. We’re in a Volvo Wilson. I know you Wilson; this car is four-wheel drive, one of the best ratings for all weather driving and overall performance and you are just going to park it in the garage.” House makes a scrunched up ‘I’m upset’ face which Wilson just flat out ignores.

“Yep, we are going to park in the garage where you can safely walk to the elevator and head to work. And do those Clinic hours that you owe Taub.” Wilson almost winks back at House and he groans in reply. The two of them enter and head up to their offices. Wilson spots Taub nervously fidgeting in the main office and immediately approaches House in the hallway. Not wanting to give House a chance to escape his dues, Wilson tells him he’ll see at lunch and he continues to his own office.

The sound of House and Taub’s conversation echoes down the hallway and House confirms that he indeed is about to head down to cover off Taub’s hours. Certain that House isn’t going to talk his way out of things, he waits for the footsteps and clunky sound of the ergonomic cane to drift off and he then heads to the main office for Oncology and picks up paperwork that requires his attention from Susan. He’s caught her in a rare moment of changing her office décor as she takes down her Thanksgiving themed items and the office looks oddly cold without her usual touches. 

Smith and Jones handled the past few days excellently and he notices that Smith’s paperwork seems much more organized. “Interesting,” he says it inviting Susan’s attention. “What is it Doctor Wilson?” She takes the bait as he begins small talk 101.

“I see here that Smith’s paperwork and charting have become much more organized. Even with Liu gone for the time, he’s become more focused. Unless, it is just me.” Wilson looks at Susan as he furrows his eyebrows.

Susan replies with a smile as she places her fall decorations into a small Rubbermaid container, “Oh no. I’ve noticed that too. It seems he’s doing a lot of his paperwork with Jones either over lunch or during their teatime breaks. I think she’s been a positive influence on him! Such a great young doctor, she is.”

“You know, I think you are right. And here I thought it was just me.” Wilson smiles as he sorts the paperwork and nods to her.

“Did you have a nice Thanksgiving and few days off?” Susan is sincere and seems a little curious as well.

With ease, he smiles and shrugs a little before ruffling his hair, “You know what; I did have a nice holiday. I helped House make pumpkin macaroons, which were quite the hit at Cuddy’s small dinner.” He pauses so she can comment, which she totally does.

“Pumpkin macaroons? I never know Doctor House was talented in baking! How’d they taste?” Susan is keen to gain just a little gossip on doctors not in her department directly.

“They were delicious! Sadly, House took the leftovers back to his place. I’d guess if he felt generous, he’ll give them to his team.”

Susan is curious if Wilson also made anything and he tells her about his pumpkin pie, which he thinks was good, but didn’t have the wow factor of House’s macaroons. He then leans against the door frame to her office as she tells him about her Thanksgiving. Being Vietnamese-American, she explains how her family has a hybrid meal of typical food as well as Vietnamese specialty items. 

They discuss various foods for a bit before her phone rings and she needs to deal with a nurse calling in sick later today. Wilson excuses himself and waves silently as she smiles and waves back. He returns to his office and works his way through the paperwork and around lunch time House finds him and drags him to the café. House is antsy, but also recognizes that his last case went longer than he wanted, so he’d be okay with no case this week . . . but still didn’t want Clinic duty.

With the mention of Clinic duty, Wilson reminds House that he has his later that day and uses it to excuse himself from lunch while House watches people in the cafeteria. Before heading down to Clinic duty, he sends a quick text to his girlfriend asking if she’s feeling better and if she needs anything for this evening. After a Clinic duty full of victims of cold and flu viruses, he returns to his office and immediately checks his phone. A single message is waiting for him.

**_Feeling a bit better. I didn’t go into work. The cold has now moved to my nose. The chicken soup has been helpful. If I need anything, I need another box of tissues._ **

Wilson sighs in relief and thinks he can pick up another box or two of tissues for her and perhaps some pho as well in case she’s tired of the soup and wants something that can be a bit spicier with those additional toppings.

He packs up his things and walks to House’s office where he’s reading journal articles. “Hey, ready to head out?” Wilson arches his eyebrows for emphasis and House throws the article onto his desk as it lands on the edge.

“Yep! Though, go to the grocery store first, I need to pick up a few items.” House must have taken things easy over the weekend, or he actually ate his way through the leftovers and put off grocery shopping. . .

Wilson holds the office door open for him while House moves along with his functionally superior, yet completely unsexy mobility aid. House tells him he wants to just go to a regular grocery store – one that serves the proletariat not Wilson’s preference for fancy high-end shops. Wilson laughs at the comment, since they went all out for the macaroons, but it is fine. The two men wander the aisles of the standard suburban grocery store; House makes Wilson push the cart and he slowly gathers basic items. Wilson takes the opportunity to pick up a multi-pack of tissues for his girlfriend, placing them on the underside of the cart. 

This does not escape House’s attention, “That’s a lot of tissues there Wilson, you already have at least six boxes at your place.” House squints at them, “Oh, they are the ones with aloe. Girlfriend have a cold?” Wilson looks away for a moment, he could deny it, but what would the point be? He’d just be teased by House more until he confessed.

So, Wilson comes clean, and admits that yes, his girlfriend has a cold and she asked for more tissues. House rolls his eyes, before he picks up a package of toilet paper for himself and they make their way to the check out. House requests paper bags, for two reasons, they now have handles and they are full enough that Wilson will have to carry most of them into his apartment. Wilson sighs accepting his fate, but puts the little divider down on the belt to separate his tissues from House’s wide range of items. It prevents House from trying to pawn his purchases off on Wilson and he smirks back at House.

The weather seems to be changing as they take the full cart back to his car. A light drizzle indicates it is just around freezing and Wilson hopes that the roads stay clear long enough for him to make it back to his place safely. When he reaches House’s apartment, he calls in the local Pho place to place a take-out order and then helps House unload his groceries. House moves carefully and seems pleased that the walk has been preemptively salted and is ice free. After several trips back and forth, Wilson has carefully deposited the paper bags on House’s counter, and he excuses himself to pick up the pho and deliver the tissues to his girlfriend’s place. The drizzle begins to switch to sleet just as he parks on her street, and Wilson groans at the worsening weather but is glad he’s wearing his boots.

He throws on his large warm and unfashionable hat and moves as quickly as the slick road and sidewalk allow him to. This is a feat of balance as he does this while holding the tissues and pho in one hand, briefcase in the other which he uses to deflect any ice pellets from hitting him in the face. Inside the lobby, he shakes off any clumps of ice and taps his boots to remove moisture before using the spare key that he hasn’t returned yet. A twinge of guilt tickles him, but he can rationalize why he hasn’t given back the keys yet.

Before entering, he knocks on the door, letting her know it is him. A mew answers from the other side of the door and he hears the lock open and she opens the door for him. She’s wearing thick grey wool socks, sweatpants, and a sweatshirt and Keith walks forward to rub up against his legs. Her voice is quieter than normal, but her complexion looks much better than Saturday and her nose is showing irritation and redness from all of the tissues she’s likely used.

He smiles, “I picked up a four pack of tissues. I hope that is enough.” She smiles and with a stuffy voice thanks him. Wilson also smiles guiltily as he holds up the pho, “I know you said you were fine for food, but I figured you might want a change from the chicken soup with some pho. Since you can make it spicy and it may help with your stuffy nose.”

Accepting the packages, she blushes, “You didn’t have to, but I won’t say no to some pho.” And she puts it down on the kitchen table before pulling out the tissues. “Kleenex with aloe! Yes, oh you have no idea how much I like these.” She looks at him as he removes his outerwear and boots in the small entry area. Wilson then finds himself blushing and he’s not quite sure why. “Well, I always hate how your nose gets so irritated from regular tissues, I figured you like them as well.” 

A quiet feeling of contentment spreads out from that moment and they settle down to eat the pho. Wilson wasn’t sure what to get, so he just went with two orders of chicken with the standard toppings in a container for them to add as well as a homemade sriracha sauce. He adds in the bean sprouts, cilantro, lime and green onions and just a few slices of chile and a small scoop of the hot sauce. In contrast, she makes sure to add in a decent number of chile slices and a good-sized dollop of sriracha, followed by the comment that she really can’t taste that much right now.

The pho is filling, hitting the spot with the wet weather and he watches as she becomes pink and flush from the spice. Her nose begins to run, and she sighs as she can ‘sort of’ taste things. After supper, he helps her tidy up and puts on the kettle for tea. Her washing machine plays a jingle and she excuses herself to remove the dry laundry. When she comes back into the living room she sighs and blows her nose thoroughly to help with clearing things out. 

“Are you going to head into work tomorrow?” He asks her concerned that she might try to push herself only dragging out the cold longer. She’s settled down and he hands her a piping hot cup of lemon tea with ginger and honey. “I’m not sure yet. I’m still stuffy and I’m feeling tired still.” It appears that she’s still weighing her options.

Wilson is glad and he sips his tea next to her as they watch TV. The wet, snot filled sounds of her rapidly emptying nasal passages is a good sign. The plastic shopping bag full of used tissues is less appealing, but he sneaks a peek to see the snot is colorless, so no sinus infection.

The sound of the sleet periodically makes itself known rapping against the windows. Wilson realizes, he should head home before it gets any worse. He begins to put on his coat, scarf and just as he’s sliding his feet into his boots, a text alert pops up on both of their phones. The wintry mix has become freezing rain and the roads are becoming dangerous. Well he’s not going anywhere soon now.

It is only a matter of time before both of them receive emails about tomorrow from their respective employers. Her work campus is asking all non-essential personnel to stay home tomorrow allowing emergency workers to have access if necessary. He is told to have a late start and arrive at noon, all current staff at PPTH are to stay and be prepared for any emergencies. The local school districts decide to take a snow day, thus taking even more people off the roads tomorrow morning and it has become clear that Wilson isn’t going anywhere soon. Keith sits in the windowsill entranced by the sleet as it taps the windows and Wilson joins him to look out onto the street. A thin sheet of ice is beginning to cover everything, and he hopes that the power doesn’t go out.

The loud wet snork of snot being expelled from her nose, catches his attention as he turns to her blowing her nose and clearing her throat. “Hey, how’s it look out there?” Wearing a blanket as a cape, she blobs over to the window to take a look. Wilson can only ruffle his hair and shrug with furrowed brows. “Not so great. I’d say there is a decent layer of ice on the car amongst everything else.” Her blanket brushes his side as she leans to look outside as the ice creates sparkling points of light and no cars drive down the street. She nods while surveying the ice covered wonderland.

She sniffs and clears her throat before looking at him, “It looks like you should stay here tonight, though I definitely do not have clothing that can fit you.” He gives her shoulder a soft pat, “Don’t worry, hopefully I can throw my shirt and underwear in the wash tomorrow morning.” She smiles at him nodding before she yawns, indicating she likely needs more rest. This seems to be her sign to shower and prepare for bed. 

When she emerges from the bathroom, she puts on the kettle for one last cup of tea and a decongestant. “I put on some fresh sheets after I got up today, so the bed is alright to sleep in.” He smiles and thanks her as he does his best to organize his few items; hanging up the suit to air out, and then putting his socks and dress shirt already in the washing machine ready for tomorrow morning. And with that he hops into the shower and roughly dries his hair with her sub-optimal hair drier and puts on his boxers and undershirt ready for bed. 

Keith is waiting for him outside of the bathroom, expecting his nightly brushing, kitty dental treats and kibble. Wilson obliges the anal-retentive feline and double checks his phone before heading to bed. No further messages from PPTH to worry about, so he takes a deep breath before going to sleep since he’ll have to wake up early enough to do a load of laundry. His girlfriend is already asleep, her head propped up with an extra pillow and she left a small light on allowing him to slide into bed easily. The bed sheets indeed smell fresh and just in case he keeps a bit of distance between the two of them. Even though he’d love to cuddle her, rest is what she needs. 

The sound of paws approach the bed and he hears Keith jump up onto the bed before settling down between them for the night. The touch of Keith around his feet is comforting and he drifts off to sleep.

* * *

You wake up Tuesday morning feeling exhausted but able to breathe through your nose much better. Thankful that you didn’t need to head into work today, you roll over to look at the clock and you are shocked to see it is after nine. The bed next to you is a bit messy signs that Wilson slept next to you, but he’s definitely up. With an exceptionally dry mouth, you head to the kitchen for a glass of orange juice and you notice Wilson is sitting on the couch wrapped up in a blanket while reading a book.

“What’s with the . . .” and you stop speaking as you hear the sound of the washer/dryer running, likely with his clothing from yesterday in it. He looks up from the book, “Morning. And – um, yes, sorry, I’m wrapped up in a blanket while I wait for my underwear to dry. I can – um wash the blanket afterwards for you.” Wilson looks guilty as you realize he’s naked under the blanket.

Still feeling cobwebs in your brain clearing you, you go to the bathroom and put on the kettle for tea. Unlike the past few days, you are hankering for regular black or green tea with a caffeine, not your evening staple of herbal. The need for caffeine can only be correlated with one thing, you are def feeling much better.

Wilson asks if you are feeling better and you return to the living room with a cup of tea and let him know that you are definitely feeling better. The morning news shows that the ice storm knocked out the power in a few surrounding regions and utility crews are working to restore things as quickly as possible. The day is crisp and sunny but the high is below freezing so it will take road crews some time to clear off the streets. Almost on cue, the sound of a plow drives down the street salting the icy street and removing larger chunks of ice.

You shower, washing off the last lingering scent of sickness and put on fresh clothing feeling much more alive. A quick check of your email indicates that things will return to normal tomorrow and you feel good enough to head into the lab and of course, any annoying meetings. The jingle of the washing machine indicates the dry cycle is complete and Wilson excitedly gets up wearing the blanket into your bathroom. A few minutes later he emerges wearing fresh underwear and his dress shirt is a touch wrinkled but looks less worn down. His hair is messier than normal as he hums to himself as he puts his pants back on and ties yesterday’s stripey tie.

“Much, much better.” Wilson looks happy to have clothing on and he looks at you finally. “I’m going to make more coffee. You want some this time?” The thought of a cup of coffee sounds good and you nod as you begin to collect all of your sweaty sick clothing to wash. Feeling bold you sip your coffee with Wilson as the two of you sit watching the local news updates. 

“Hey, um –“ you pause as you realize what you are about to say and Wilson turns to look at you with interest and his eyebrows pop up almost saying “Yes?”. After clearing your throat, you continue, “I was wondering if maybe you’d like to leave some spare clothes at my place.” You look away from him at the floor before glancing back to his blank face, “I mean for things like last night, in an emergency. Just, like, pajamas and spare underwear . . .” You look up back at Wilson’s face as you watch the transition from listening in a distanced fashion to him grinning in happiness.

He leans in to give you a kiss on the cheek. “Thanks so much. That would be great. You can also bring stuff over to my place. I’m sure you’ve gathered already that I have plenty of room for it.” Wilson’s body language has changed and he’s just beside himself as he smiles. Nodding along, you take another sip of coffee as you calculate the next thought, but you aren’t quite sure if you should articulate it – your keys. Part of you wants to ask for the spare set back, but with Keith and you being sick, it was rather convenient to let him have a set of keys. . . . at the same time it seems too fast you brain says. With a decision, you ask Wilson to return the spare set of keys. He smiles as his eyes look a little disappointed, but he doesn’t seem surprised.

Wilson indicates the keys are in the small bowl where you keep them and the two of you then discuss the rest of the truncated work week, well for you at least. He’s got his normal stuff to do and another clinical trial reviewer session on Friday. You then remember that the Purity Ring show is that evening and remind Wilson who seems surprised it is so soon, and you haven’t determined what to do. Shit. If you weren’t sick the past few days, you’d have figured out a game plan. The doors are at seven, which means opener goes on at eight, and if you are lucky Purity Ring are on between nine-thirty and ten. Show should wrap up around eleven and it will be an hour back to Princeton, but you can sleep in your own bed.

“I think we should just drive there and back. More comfortable to sleep in my own bed. What do you think?” Your question is only to confirm what you think Wilson would already prefer. He ruffles his hair as his right elbow is above his head. “Sure, though should we eat something here or there? It might be better to get there early and not rush over.” It sounds like a good suggestion and you will look into fast-ish places for food nearby. Having to head into work by noon, Wilson gathers his few items and heads out giving himself extra time to scrape the ice off of his car and drive to work.

On his way out, he suggests sleeping over on Thursday so that both of you can head to work together and he’ll pick you up and head onto Philly for the show.

The rest of the day, you clean up the sickness from the apartment wiping down counters, washing as many items as possible and then crashing in the evening to get to bed early enough for commuting to work tomorrow. The local news thankfully reports that most of the roads are clear and that the next few days will warm up just enough to melt any remaining ice. 

* * *

Wilson sighs heavily as he approaches his car still partly covered by a thin sheet of ice. Thankfully, the back half of the car is in the sun so he’s able to open a back door and pull out his scraper. Awkwardly, he contorts himself around the driver’s seat to turn on the ignition and put the defroster and heaters on at their highest setting. While the car warms, he chips away any excess ice from the lights, all of the windows and places that the defroster won’t quickly reach. The windshield poses the worst and he finds himself fidgeting as he waits for the glass to warm up enough to clean of the frozen wipers. The two front doors are still frozen shut, just enough water must have gotten in between the seals. He sighs since the solution is to climb all around but he’s wearing his boots and he’ll get the seats dirty, but he does need to get to work. Wilson pauses a moment and decides he’ll go in headfirst to the passenger seat and try to swing his lower half to the driver’s seat. Thankfully, due to House’s tall statue the seat is far back enough that he only kicks the wheel with his boots and rights himself able to safely operate his car.

The roads aren’t terrible, and he makes it to PPTH with more than enough time. As he enters he checks with the main desk where Brenda is covering holes in the schedule. “Wilson! Good to see you. I need you to cover House’s Clinic hours this afternoon. Cuddy told him to take the day off.” Wilson sighs but knows that it means House is likely taking care of his leg and not running around instead. “Okay, what time?” He smiles and he gets an answer from behind a pile of charts, “Two to five.” A curt nod, and he’s off to his office and to check in with his own department.

To his relief, there were little issues and Smith covered off for everyone else as he lives within walking distance and he even had ice climbing shoes he used to make it back to be on call. Unexpected, yet expected from Smith. Wilson thanks him and Smith yawns before smiling that he’ll be fine until this evening. Before covering for House, he runs down to the cafeteria to grab a sandwich to go and then signs off on the minimal paperwork. Whitecoat on and ready for more sniffles, his Clinic duty is uneventful, with the most exciting thing being a sprained wrist from a fall on the ice. Wilson was also surprised that no one commented on him wearing the same outfit as yesterday . . . then again perhaps to most people his outfits blur together – his trademark is a striped shirt and stripey or patterned tie. He’s relieved when he can check out of clinic duty and heads home. 

House gives him a call in the evening to state there is no poker night due to the weather impacting a few of the other players schedule this week. They chat for a few minutes, but House mainly complains that he was bored being stuck at home today since Cuddy ordered him to wait until tomorrow and he ran out of eggs when baking . . . Wilson doesn’t want to know how many things House baked out of said boredom. He’s sure the baked goods will show up tomorrow morning.

House lets him go and he makes a quick dinner and is able to relax before tomorrow. All in all, it wasn’t terrible for a snow delay day. 

* * *

Wednesday morning, Wilson gets up as usual and goes about his normal morning routine and feeling exciting wears his cream and salmon dress shirt, with the maroon sweater vest. After doing morning rounds and a few quick meetings with patients about their treatment options, his office door opening without a knock announces the arrival of House right before lunch. House looks his scruffy best and he’s using his fashionable yet not very functional canes. “Lunch!” the predictability of House’s stomach when bored is oddly comforting and they discuss how many sprains and fractures will come through the ER over the next few days. House emphasizes ‘days’ since a few people will likely hold off on coming to the hospital until things don’t improve on their own.

As they settle into one of their favorite spots, House asks him what he’s doing Friday night. The indie movie theatre is playing several Hitchcock films over the next few days and House is tempted by a back to back screening of ‘The Birds’ and ‘Vertigo’ on Friday. Wilson can see that House is certain that one of Wilson’s favorite films ‘Vertigo’ will seal the deal. Or perhaps they could see both! House appears like an eager puppy waiting for Wilson to thank him for finding such interesting things to do.

Wilson is about to say yes, when he realizes he’s heading down to Philly to see Purity Ring. Feeling exceptionally guilty he looks away a moment and takes a sip of his Dr. Pepper and sighs heavily. “Sorry House, I’ve already got plans for Friday night. I’d love to go, but I’m going to a show in Philly with my girlfriend to see the one band Purity Ring.” 

House’s look of disappointment is swift as he coughs on his fries and quickly recovers. “You? _**You**_ are going to a live show? Wilson this is a chance to see your favorite movie on the big screen!” With a shrug Wilson looks at his best friend sadly, “Yeah, other than I’ve seen it three times already with you over the years. What movies are playing on Saturday night? I’ll go with you then.”

House stares at his plate and scrunches his nose slightly, “I can’t, I’m going to play with the swing band again. I already went to the practice rehearsal on Sunday evening and I’m going to cover for a guitar player as well.” Wilson stares at him intensely.

“There is something you aren’t telling me.” Building up suspense Wilson picks up a fry and points at House for emphasis, “You. You are interested in someone in the band.” He smirks and House makes an annoyed scoffing sound, “As if Wilson! You are the one who is always looking at the ladies.” Now Wilson laughs playfully since when it comes to House, he can’t escape Wilson’s eye.

“Oh, come on. You can tell me who you are interested in. I bet it is the bass player. She looks like your type.” As he leans back in his chair crossing his arms, they both turn to see Thirteen next to their table with a patient file, “House likes someone?” House looks like he wants to crawl under the table for a moment before he recovers, “Gimmie! File!” and waves his right hand in front of Thirteen as she hands over the file.

“Looks like a simple case of a broken ankle on the ice yesterday but swelling indicates otherwise as well as the ease of the break.” She looks certain that House will take the file. 

“Pfffttt lots of people have breaks like this . . .” and House goes from disinterested to addicted when he sees the age of the patient, a 22 year old college student athlete. “Okay, let’s get the team together to do a differential. Smell ya later Wilson!” and House escapes with Thirteen off to the office. Leaving his tray behind of course for Wilson to return with his. 

It is only when he has a meeting with Cuddy later that day to go over some budgeting for the department and a potential for a new piece of equipment that they begin to chat about the weeks so far. It is then that Wilson mentions going to the show when he’s met with a “What?” from her as she looks honestly surprised. “You are going to a live show? And this isn’t an adventure with House?”

Wilson sheepishly shrugs, explaining that his girlfriend got him into a band, and it is her idea to see them in Philly at some venue. Cuddy’s next statement throws him for a complete loop, “Do you even have clothing to wear out to a casual event like a concert?” 

He’s unable to create a reply as he opens his mouth and gestures towards her with nothing to follow. All he can do is sigh and ruffle his hair, “I guess I could ask House. Or should I just copy House’s style?”

Cuddy looks at him confused before she starts to giggle, “You didn’t even think about this did you?” and she twirls a pen in her left hand while smiling at him as a friend, not as his direct supervisor.

“I ah – yeah. I told her to take care of things, but it has been a long time.” Wilson realizes he felt so comfortable with things he didn’t even think about adjusting himself for her. 

Cuddy brings him back to the present, “You should just ask her what she thinks. I’m sure she’s been to many more shows than you have.” She readjusts her hair and returns to the matter at hand, “I’m looking at line 57 in column H.” And they return to examining the budget document wrapping up just after five.

Wilson walks by the Diagnostics office and sees the team in there discussing the differential with House. They all look very animated and it seems they are deciding on the next test for the patient, so he keeps going as he catches House for a moment, and they lock eyes. House nods and Wilson knows he doesn’t need him to come in and distract his team.

The drive home is uneventful, and he begins to make lazy spaghetti while he calls his girlfriend. She answers after a few rings and sounds much better. As the ground beef browns, he chats with her about her day back at work. Apparently, half of her department is out sick, so she feels lucky she was out for part of the weekend.

Finally, he steers the conversation to Friday night. She assures him that she found a soup and sandwich place close to the venue and parking he doesn’t need to worry about things. A deep breath then leads into his question, what should he wear?

Her reply is a brief pause that leads to an “Ah uuuumm – t-shirt and jeans, I guess. I mean I wouldn’t wear super nice dress shoes, but you’d want comfortable shoes.”

Wilson feels unsatisfied with the answer pressing for more information, “I only have a few university shirts and my jeans are as uncool as possible. I just don’t have casual clothing.” The silence on the other side of the line is unnerving, he feels like he’s put her in an odd spot.

“Well, I guess you could wear a dress shirt and tie, but that would seem a bit corporate. . . . what about wearing your vest with a pair of casual pants? It might be hip enough to look interesting. You got any older pairs of shoes that are good for standing and okay with being scuffed?”

He adds a jar of pasta sauce to his cooked ground meat and sets it to simmer while filling the pot of water for the spaghetti and thinks if he’s got any really old shoes.

“I’m not sure, I’ll have to dig around in the closet, I think I have one more box from the end of med school that I’ve ignored.”

A mew can be heard over the phone, “Yes, yes, I will cut up your bell pepper soon! Well, I gotta go, Keith is begging for his pepper. Good luck, I’m sure you’ll figure something out.”

Their conversation ends and he lets his lazy pasta sauce simmer and he brings the water to a boil to add in the pasta and cooks it until perfectly al dente. As everything cools, he goes into the spare room and fishes out the box where he found the saddle shoes for swing dancing. Last time he dug it out, he stopped examining the contents once he found the shoes and pocket kerchiefs. Just as he’s almost through the contents of the box, he sees the tread of a pair of boots; dusty and scuffed up are a pair of Chelsea boots he had in undergrad that he had forgotten about. They’d seen better days and could use a decent polish but seem okay otherwise. A quick test of them verifies that they still fit and have nice support.

While watching ‘Housewives of Atlanta’ he eats his dinner and then packs enough for him and House for tomorrow’s lunch. He sets up his shoe polishing kit and settles into half watch TV and to brush, polish and buff the shoes. They clean up decently and he wonders why he stopped wearing them in the first place? Maybe it was once he entered med school and he started dressing for the part, even before he could afford to look the part.

Taking her suggestion, he pulls out the vest from the wool suit, which works well with his light blue shirt. He’s got casual pants for the weekend in varying shades of brown and settles on a medium brown pair that doesn’t match the vest but at least compliments it. It is not anything he’d choose to wear, but he for a reason he’s not quite sure of can’t look ‘corporate’. He still needs an outfit for Friday for work, clothes for Saturday and some to leave at her place. . . humming to himself he folds and neatly fits as much as possible into his overnight bag for tomorrow evening. 

Feeling more resolved, he showers and snuggles into his large bed, wishing it were tomorrow so he could spoon with her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have always hated it when my car doors have frozen shut! I used to share a '91 Ford Escort wagon with my brother and frequently you'd have to enter through the hatchback trunk and climb in and then blast the sad defroster and then push the doors open from the inside. I don't know if door seal technology has improved since then, as I also had a passenger side door on a Mercury Sable swing open while driving due to the ice breaking loose from the door seal.
> 
> Can you imagine Wilson at a live show? I'm trying to, even though I can't visualize him dressing casually. It is a good thing I picked a chill band versus a punk show for him. lol. No Parquet Courts for Wilson just yet.
> 
> I recently discovered that the Electric Factory has changed names to Franklin Hall. Whoops! I feel out of touch, then again, that last time I went there I think was to see Bad Religion and Less Than Jake. You can try to calculate how long ago that was . . . 
> 
> What is more intriguing is that Phillygoth is still going strong and they still have Dracula's Ball events! Thanks internet! Wow, talk about nostalgia right there. Any person who has been paying attention to my music references shouldn't be too surprised that I was goth for a good part of my 20s and I have the CD collection to show for it; Bauhaus, Skinny Puppy, Einsturzende Neubauten etc. I just won't torture Wilson with having him listen to Converter, Terrorfakt, Hypnoskull, Manufactura but maybe, just maybe some Izoloscope. Or Converter Expansion Pack 1.3. But I digress.


	21. Wilson walks into a live music venue . . .

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ah yes, the much awaited trip to Philly to see Purity Ring live arrives and House continues his baking addiction/perfection. Lots of fluff. And serious conversations about emotions, but more fluff and implied sexy times. The show's writers have always been quite clear Wilson is a physical guy and he's def into intimate times when possible. Even though not mentioned directly in the main chapters, please keep in mind all sexy times are textbook examples of safe sex. 'Cause Wilson. I think it is pretty obvious that his lack of small humans wasn't just one side of his past relationships.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I got distracted while I looked up how many eggs it takes to make a standard batch of meringue cookies. If anything, I'm now tempted to try to make them for myself! It isn't like I have a similar personality to House able to obsess over small details like finicky baked goods. . . .
> 
> I'd also say, I had to do more searching for a opening band since several that I was thinking of have either broken up or have become bigger names than Purity Ring. I did keep with the CanCon though (Canadian Content).

Thursday morning Wilson wakes up feeling impatient and frustrated; in a sexual way. His morning shower is a touch longer as he takes the time to take care of himself before he emerges. Wilson has an appearance to keep up at work; cool, collected and polished – not frazzled because he hasn’t had sex since his girlfriend got sick after Thanksgiving. God, he sounds so whiny, he thinks to himself. He’s gone much longer than about a week.

Knowing he will finally be able to see her tonight and drop off clothing items at her apartment, he mentally double-checks what he wants to leave at her place. Second favorite pair of pajama pants, wool socks, but the t-shirt doesn’t matter. Humming to himself, he heads into work and has a very calm Thursday. 

House enters his office at lunch and he of course silently accepts his leftovers for lunch. After lunch, Wilson stalls going back to his office and walks House back to his own office. Plus, he’s hoping to score whatever the baked goods were that House made. Wilson’s play pays off, House invites him into the main part of the office where Thirteen is doing some charting and Chase sips on a cup of coffee. On the large table there are two Tupperware containers; one is full of meringue cookies of various colors and flavors(?), while the other has chocolate chip cookies with nuts. Wilson finds himself in awe and he looks at House with a cocked eyebrow as a small gasp escapes and before he can even ask what flavors are, House is telling him.

“Vanilla, lemon, coffee, peppermint, and cinnamon-apple. And, yes, peppermint is green, and cinnamon-apple is red; I tried to select the most logical color of food dye to use for each.”

Wilson smiles as he opens a container and selects the coffee and cinnamon-apple ones. The cookie melts as it hits his tongue and the texture has that light crunch and the flavor is light and aromatic as it dissolves. They are incredible and really perfect. No wonder House ran out of eggs based on the number of different flavors he made.

He finds himself almost sighing at how good it is as he looks at House, smiling softly at him. 

“These are great House! Do you mind if I take a few more for later? You know, to try all the flavors.” Wilson shrugs a little as he’s thinking of grabbing a few for his girlfriend as well.

House grunts in reply and takes a zesty bite out of one of the cookies as it crumbles all around his face. Chase laughs lightly watching both men as Wilson is carefully selecting each flavor for himself and goes with the lemon, coffee and cinnamon-apple for his girlfriend. 

“They are all quite good, but I have to admit I liked the vanilla and mint the best.” Chase nods to House and Thirteen barely glances up from charting.

“I liked the coffee one the best. It had a nice balanced flavor, but really the chocolate chip cookies are the best I’ve had in a long time.” Thirteen barely smirks at the group before she gets back to updating the chart for insurance and billing.

House makes a laugh, “You’d better say my chocolate chip cookies are the best you’ve had! I pulled out all the stops with these!” and he taps his cane for emphasis before turning back to his office. Wilson makes a vague statement of ‘Later . . .’ as he slides out with as many as he can easily carry and notices this soft knowing glance between Chase and Thirteen as they get back to paperwork.

Upon return to his office he juggles the cookies so that he can fish his keys out of his pocket and then places them down on his desk. He then walks to the Oncology lounge to find a zip lock bag and uses it to carefully pack them up, well not all of them as he pops a mint one into his mouth. It is good, but mint seems to be an odd flavor in his mind.

The rest of the day goes quickly, rounds, checking int with Susan in the office, chatting with Jones as she settles in and he swings by House’s office at five on his way out. House is typing something up on the computer and he leans in to let House know he’s on his way out.

“I’m off for the day, tomorrow I’ll be doing the clinical reviews again in the morning. You up for lunch tomorrow?” Wilson looks at House with his eyebrows up and excited giving them an extra wiggle for emphasis.

House has stopped typing while looking over his right shoulder at him. “I never thought you’d ask me Wilson! It is definitely a date. I’d like to just make it clear that you’ll be the one paying.” House’s eyes are light and playful, and Wilson has no choice but to sigh and roll his eyes.

“Yes, yes. Though if tomorrow is a date, it implies we’ve had hundreds of lunch dates by this point.” Wilson looks at House with a sly smile and House just chuckles. “I was wondering how long it would take you to notice.”

He then turns away from Wilson, “I’ve got to finish this report. If I can get all of my employee performance reviews done by the beginning of December, Cuddy said I can write a small grant to support a current medical student in the future for the department.” The click-clack of House’s fingers on the keyboard is one of focus and Wilson turns as he raises his right hand to wave.

“Night House. See you tomorrow” He is glad his face isn’t towards House as he’s trying to hide how shocked he is that House is doing performance reviews early and is willingly looking for more funding.

“Night Wilson.” House’s voice is soft and minimal as he’s focused on what he’s typing.

As he walks down the corridor, he glances at House’s team putting on their coats to head out chatting about something and hears laughter through the thin glass wall. With a quick ruffle and shrug, he smiles at the strange but positive nature of the situation and he swings his briefcase before entering the elevator. 

Once home, he eats the last of his lazy spaghetti and meat and then goes into this closet to make a final call on outfits. Since they never completely settled the logistics for tomorrow, he decides that he’ll just wear a single outfit all day and not worry about looking hip or fashionable or trendy. Or maybe just fashionable. 

Wilson packs his McGill sweatshirt, a t-shirt and jeans for Saturday in the bag and fusses just a bit over tomorrow’s outfit. He will wear the vest and pants from the wool suit, and he decides on a shirt long ignored in his closet, a maroon dress shirt he got as a present from either Bonnie or Julie . . . he’s not even entirely sure who gave it to him. He likely just smiled and told his wife at the time that it was nice, and he filed it away into the back of the closet as it didn’t match with his style of dress shirts; white, light blue, blue stripes, blue and orange stripes etc. But now, he thinks the maroon complements the brown suit and he will – gasp – go tieless after work. He selects one of his orange and blue striped ties and figures it is more than appropriate for professional things.

He then rings his girlfriend to let her know he’s on his way over and carrying more than enough clothing to his car. She sounds only slightly snotty and he hears a mew of Keith in the background.

Upon entering her apartment, he’s greeted by Keith with an excited meow and he balances his suit for tomorrow, bag and briefcase while Keith sniffs everything with interest. She looks much better with just some slight irritation around her nose and a touch of that stuffiness. There is a bowl of chicken soup on the table, it looks like she’s finishing up the pot he made and a cup of tea releases steam next to it.

Dropping his items to the floor almost sloppily, he reaches out and pulls her in for a hug and he kisses the top of her head. She’s a bit surprised by his forwardness but relaxes as he sighs after kissing her head and hugs him back. Her outfit is clean cut and basic, a multi-colored striped shirt, green sweatshirt over it and blue jeans. It shows that she wanted to be proper looking but not to stuffy and likely warmer than usual.

“Miss me that much?” her question catches his attention and he looks down at her as she watches his facial expression.

His left hand moves to the side of her face, “You have no idea. But it looks like I caught you in the middle of supper.” A small nod from her indicates he’s correct and she pulls back. 

“Well, I can at least you where you can unpack your stuff, while I eat.” She walks towards her bedroom and he picks up the bag stuffed full of clothing and his suit on a hanger in the garment bag. There are two dressers in the bedroom, one is a mid-century modern dresser that he’s seen her use frequently, while another cheaper one is in the corner. With a solid pull, she opens the top drawer. 

“I hope half is enough space for you.” She looks at him to see his reaction. There is a small divider down center, the right half is full of stationary, envelopes, office supplies among other things. The half drawer is just enough space to fit a spare pair of underwear and socks as well as pajamas. 

He smiles happily, “Thanks, this works for now, though I will continue to hang my suits.” And with that she gives him a quick pat on the bum, turning to eat her supper. Wilson spends a few minutes finding the optimal arrangement of items, once he’s settled on the best option, he closes the drawer gently and notices there seems to be a weight to the dresser. Curious, he pulls open the drawer below and finds it is full of CDs with the spine facing up in columns. And they are in alphabetical order, well only to J. Already guessing what the two drawers below are, he for good measure, opens them to show that the rest of the alphabet is contained in the drawers. It is some collection indeed. This also finally answers his question of wondering where she had been storing them.

All set, he returns to her small kitchen and puts the kettle on to make himself a cup of tea as she’s slurping up the soup for supper. They then settle in a soft comforting conversation chatting about work and how she’s feeling as Keith flirts with their feet before perching in a window to watch the street below.

She leads him to the couch and just to watch the weather forecast; it will be cold tomorrow but no forecast for snow. With that sorted out, they settle on meeting at her place. She can feed Keith before driving to Philly and it is halfway between their workplaces, but this means they will have to drive separately tomorrow, and Wilson feels a little sad not being able to drive in with her in the morning. It doesn’t make all that much sense since they’ll be driving to the show together later anyways, but it tugs at him anyways.

Wilson makes his intentions quite clear as they relax on the couch pulling her to his side and his hands slowly become more active. Just before he goes to do anything else, he looks at her and feels obligated to ask her if she’s feeling well enough. The quick glance away and blush is more than enough information for him, but she makes it clear that she’s still feeling a bit tired so it will have to be all on him.

A smile slowly forms across his lips as he leans in to give her a chaste kiss as he tells her that he doesn’t think it will be a problem. In a very masculine gesture for him, he lifts her up and carries her into her bedroom and lays her down on the bed as he removes his tie and takes off his dress shirt revealing the undershirt before he crawls over her and begins to kiss her gently.

However, his self-control is limited and his impatience and need for sex wins out. The entire act is quite vanilla and almost too traditional, he thinks but he feels much better as he lies next to her on the bed panting and sweating. Worried about being exposed for too long, she jumps into the shower to wash off the sweat and she’s changed into warm pajamas with a long sleeve shirt in addition to the sweatpants and socks. Yawning only points out to him that he’s tired and tomorrow will be a long day, so getting to bed early tonight is important.

She goes to brush Keith and make sure his nightly needs are met and he makes his way to bed quickly. After setting their alarms and turning off the lamp on the nightstand, he snuggles up to her to spoon.

“Goodnight.” He nuzzles her neck and she laughs just slightly. “Goodnight to you too.” And with that the two of them quickly drift off to sleep.

* * *

Friday morning you wake up to the sound of Wilson’s alarm as he turns it off and Keith meows impatiently. The bed moves as Wilson untangles himself from the blankets and you hear him talk to Keith as he gets up, “Yes, yes. Impatient you are.” Which Keith responds to with a mew. You turn to see your clock, it is just after six-thirty and you will take these few minutes to lay in bed a bit longer before getting up. A flush of the toilet is followed by the shower turning on and you doze off. Just before seven the financial report plays on NPR and you sigh as you get up. 

Still half awake, you open the bathroom door to find Wilson moisturizing his face at the mirror and mumble and gesture that you’d like to use your bathroom. He smiles and nods holding the small tub of moisturizer as he shuffles out half-dressed wearing underwear and a light grey t-shirt. Finished with your business, you exit to put the kettle on and eat some cereal. 

The sound of Wilson’s fancy blow dryer roars, well more like hums from the bathroom as you eat wheat squares and the French Press steeps. The sound of his footsteps gives you an indication of the assembly of Wilson’s outside appearance and he finally emerges, wearing the vintage wool suit, but only the vest and pants, no jacket to be seen. He’s wearing a striking maroon shirt with his navy, light blue and orange striped tie. Of course, he’s got matching dark brown argyle socks. He looks good.

“Morning. How are you feeling?” He smiles at you as he then turns to pour himself a cup of coffee before sitting down at the table with the mug. To avoid replying with a mouthful of fiber-filled goodness you make sure to chew and swallow before answering.

“I’m feeling alright. Just a little tired, but I’ll take it easy at work today.” After replying you take a long drink of your coffee and it feels just right. You definitely are pretty much back to normal when coffee is the correct morning beverage.

Of course, Wilson softly smiles, since based on how you were in bed last night and your relative alertness this morning, he likely knows that you are fine. “I’m glad to hear that. Though just in case, I’ll drive.” He says this not because he thinks it is his right to drive, he’s that neurotic that he wants to drive. Personally, you have no complaint as you hate driving. Seriously, driving is stressful and even though you can do long distances, if you don’t have to you won’t.

“Thanks. I appreciate it.” And you really mean it, since you won’t have to deal with driving there and back. “Don’t worry, I will be an excellent navigator.” And you smile at him as he makes a dopey smile back while sipping his coffee.

Wilson finishes coffee faster than normal, “I’d like to shove off sooner this morning. I can call into PPTH before I start on the reviewer work to make sure I’m done by five. Just paperwork and whatnot, but it will prevent any hiccups from happening.” He rinses off the mug and turns back to you and leans in to give you a kiss on the cheek.

You feel a blush as you turn away to compose yourself before telling him that you will text him when you head home and when you get home as well. Not a moment to waste, he’s out the door and Keith mews good-bye to him. He’s not one to mess around if he wants to stay on a schedule! And you feel yourself fall for him a little more since you will also be making adjustments to your schedule to make sure that you will also be on time this evening.

One way to adjust your schedule, is to decide on your outfit this morning and not bother with changing. Plus, you are far enough along in your relationship that you don’t need to impress him at the show. With the temperature below freezing but dry, you pick out black winter tights, a knee length wool skirt, red and black plaid, black cotton cardigan and then try to figure out what shirt to wear, eventually settling on a black Skinny Puppy t-shirt (the Chainsaw EP cover with the Grim Reaper leading the four horsemen in blue). Obviously, you can’t year your Purity Ring t-shirt to the show; it would be breaking the unwritten rules of show attendance.

Dressed and ready to go, you tell Keith to be a good boy and not burn down the apartment and you begin your cold commute to work. When you arrive, you can see Wilson’s car close to the entrance indicating he got there more than early enough. 

Work itself isn’t bad, but it drags along. Your boss is now back in the office some days and the number of meetings has decreased. It helps that with so many other people out sick, meetings have been rescheduled for next week. The pain of the meeting has been pushed into the future, like how you deal with cleaning your shower. Lunch finally arrives and you head down to the cafeteria. You catch glimpses of what appear to be some of the reviewers chatting over lunch at one of the larger tables. The very stoic woman is chatting with them and you try not to eavesdrop, but you really want to eavesdrop on them. The well-dressed oncologists are discussing the rest of their afternoon, heading back to the city, Christmas shopping, running errands. An Asian doctor mentions that Wilson left the room as quickly as possible and he’s surprised that he doesn’t seem interested in joining them for lunch. Eva interestingly replies and you catch her notice you filling up your coffee while making your way to the cashier. 

Her voice is neutral in tone and her attention has returned back to the group, “Oh Wilson. I’m not sure if you know it, but he’s the Department Head at Princeton-Plainsboro and he was one of the youngest appointed in the tri-state area. I’m sure you can realize he has a much busier schedule than some of us enjoy.” 

Trying to remain cool, you pay the cashier and head to a small table that edge with the special of the day, a basic chicken curry with rice and your coffee. You can only catch a few remaining snippets of the conversation, but a few of the doctors seem to be surprised either making comments there is no way they’d take a position at a teaching hospital, while others ponder if he knows the infamous diagnostician House. Though everyone from the local area gives props to PPTH for being the only hospital that was able to deal with the electronic records system crashing and dealt with the massive traffic accident in I-95 a few weeks ago.

Beginning to feel creepy and almost voyeuristic, you turn to eat your lunch and double check the best route to get to the nearest lot to the venue as well as the small soup and sandwich place nearby. The rest of the afternoon drags along, you check your plants, set up a PCR, double check with the technicians that all of the greenhouse and growth chamber settings are correct before finally returning to your office to deal with any late emails. Sadly, you don’t have any since so many people are out sick and for once you are annoyed you don’t have something to respond to before the weekend.

When the clock finally strikes five, you sprint out the door telling everyone to have a nice weekend. It is cold but you barely notice it as you move as quickly as possible to your car, text Wilson you are leaving which then quickly becomes texting him when you get home.

He replied that he got your first text and he’ll be at your place by five thirty.

You unlock the door to a famished Keith, give him his supper and some chopped cucumber while you pack a smaller satchel with required concert items. The Cambridge satchel is an ideal accessory for live shows; it is large enough to hold all the requirements such as a phone, wallet, chapstick, tissues, emergency feminine products, small umbrella and a book for when you are at shows alone. When it gets crowded, you slide it in front of your waist, and out of the way of others.

Just as you wrap things up, Wilson buzzes your apartment and you let him into the building and he’s soon outside the apartment. He apologies as he heads to the bathroom only removing his shoes, coat still on and appears to have lightened his load when he returns. Now, he takes the time to hug you and give you a quick kiss on the cheek. 

“All set?” His question has an undercurrent of excitement. You excuse yourself to use the bathroom and then put on your winter accessories and coat with your pair of basic black boots. He seems excited, but he’s trying really hard to remain calm and it is adorable. Keith is given his marching orders and the two of you head out to his Volvo parked on the street below.

NPR plays softly in the background as the car makes its way down to Philly. Both of you chat about your day and the excitement from Wilson begins to rub off on you as you think about seeing a live show for the first time in a while.

* * *

On Friday morning Wilson is jolted awake to the sound of his alarm on his phone. This is unusual for him, he’s almost always up right before it goes off. The lingering thoughts from a dream cling to him, something about House running off into a snowy field and he found himself literally frozen in place unable to stop House from the bears he knew were waiting for him. With a bit of flailing, he’s able to turn off the alarm and realizes the blankets are all knotted up around him. Clearly, he was distressed by his dream with House . . . . but the more awake he becomes the faster the details disappear. 

Feeding Keith is almost a given on the days when he sleeps over and he talks to Keith about how impatient he is. His morning routine pauses slightly as his girlfriend enters to use the bathroom and he and his anti-wrinkle coconut cream take a quick detour into the living room to wait for her to yield the bathroom mirror to him.

He moves faster than usual and dresses so that he can enjoy a few minutes with her and with a cup of coffee before heading out. Even though they don’t start until nine, he’s going to head to the café to log into his work account to approve any procedures and paperwork electronically and call to check in with Susan about any pressing issues.

Once fully dressed, he fluffs his hair one last time in the mirror. He looks good, one might even say handsome. With that he joins her in the kitchen and is glad to see that she looks pretty much normal. Just to be on the safe side, he offers to drive, and she seems fine with this idea, even offering to navigate. He appreciates her offer as it is always nice to have someone else directing you when driving to a place you aren’t quite familiar with. Sure, he was at UPenn for part of his training, but they are going to a place he’s never been to.

They settle on their plans for meeting up later on, and he leans in to give her a kiss before heading out. He catches her blush as she turns away before telling him that she will make sure to text him her ETA. With that taken care of he quickly puts on his dress shoes, scarf, coat, gloves and hat. Briefcase in left hand and car keys in his right he’s out the door and Keith mews at him in departure.

Wilson smiles that Keith is such a weird cat, but he really likes him. NPR is the soundtrack to his morning, and he gets a clutch parking spot as close as possible to the main entrance. Alone, he walks into the main entrance and heads to the café to get a coffee and settles down to knock his paperwork out of the way. A quick phone call to Susan confirms that there aren’t any pressing items and he lets her know that he will swing by after lunch and before Clinic hours. Susan tells him to have a nice morning and he smiles to himself all of his electronic approvals complete. **_Perfect timing!_** he thinks to himself as it is fifteen minutes before the start of his session. 

He checks in at the security desk, hands over all of his items and once in the room a clerk hands over the box with all of his items. Neatly unpacking them, he picks up where he left off while nibbling on a muffin with a banana at easy reach when required. The company lead stops in briefly to explain that they’d like the group to begin discussing the results by ten-thirty. Fiddling with the pen between his fingers, he quickly looks over his notes and picks up with the clinical trial results. Making sure to help future Wilson, he takes through notes and marks points where he’s unclear or confused on things to know to go back to them. As time progresses, he feels less thrilled with the human trial results than what the cell culture experiments showed. 

It isn’t surprising that something that works in a cell culture system would be less effective in practice, but he’s more concerned that the statistical analyses aren’t consistent between the cell culture experiments and the clinical trials. Frowning, he furrows his brown and plays with his pencils as he wishes he knew which test would be best suited to follow the ANOVA. Tukey? Levine? Dunnett's? Honestly, he’s hoping that the others will shed light into things since he hasn’t been generating a whole lot of data. 

When the time comes, he strategically hangs back and watches the other doctors as they discuss the results. This isn’t because he isn’t confident in what he does not understand completely, it is so that he can watch the body language of his colleagues as they speak. Sure, they are supposed to be independent and impartial reviewers, but they are still being paid by a corporation to make a judgement upon the putative drug. To his advantage, the group decides to discuss things going in alphabetical order. Wilson makes notes about each panelist and does his best to summarize their feelings on the results. Most of the other reviewers seem to be neutral, their body language is engaged, and they all point to the cell culture data as being promising, but less so in practice. One even goes far enough to call out the issues with inconsistent statistics but wonders if it is related to the drug testing team was working with different criteria than the clinical testing team.

Eva seems disengaged, as she summarizes her thoughts and conclusions. Wilson finds himself paying less attention to her words and more to the fact that she’s wearing designer clothing and it seems like she’s phoning things in. Could it be that she’s a legitimate sellout? She did mention how she had a meeting the last time with a friend who worked here. Trying to appear focused he props his chin up with his right hand and returns to writing more notes about her analysis. They slowly work their way down to him and honestly, at that point he feels like he’s not able to contribute all that much.

But, he feels that he owes them his best effort if his name hadn’t started with ‘w’. So, after a quick ruffle of his hair and a deep breath he explains his understanding of the results. He makes sure to state that the cell culture results are impressive, and he was quite excited by them during the last session. However, he has mixed feelings on the clinical trial results. Wilson does his best to sprinkle in his own first-hand observations about how drugs have completely different results based on the individual, but at the moment he would like additional information from the company or clarification on their statistical analyses. A few other doctors smile and nod towards him. 

From that point onward, the last few present their input and the group then has to begin to decide what the next step will be. Wilson really wants more information on the methods; while on a short break he works his way through the room and talks to the few doctors who seemed to appreciate his suggestion and he makes sure to chat with each of them.

When the break ends, they have to decide on a chair and how they will begin to work on the report. Not surprisingly, Eva is selected to be the chair and she matter of factly asks if anyone has any concerns. Wilson hangs back and as he predicted a few of the other doctors express concerns with the unclear analysis. They bring forth this concerning point and Wilson is then able to politely suggest that perhaps they could either have someone from the team come present to them or if they could provide the data with more consistent analysis methods. 

Eva’s eyes briefly narrow as she looks at Wilson, but a few other panelists really like his suggestion and they ask for additional information. And all of a sudden, the group feels that they’d like more information and Wilson’s request looks necessary. Within a matter of minutes, Eva is fielding the request to ask for additional information for the next session before they begin to write their report.

And with that, they begin to pack up their boxes, and Eva suggests that anyone who can, should join her for lunch in the café. Wilson makes small talk with a few others, but when they reach the main entrance, he politely excuses himself, stating that he has to return to work and can’t join them for lunch.

While driving back to PPTH, he keeps reminding himself of the issues he had with the stats and he’s going to pester House over lunch. Back in his office, he takes off the vest and throws on his whitecoat anticipating that he won’t have much time between lunch and Clinic duty. House is typing at his computer as he hangs through the door and asks one of House’s favorite non-question-questions. “Lunch?” House breaks in a giant smile.

“Why Jimmy, I never thought you’d ask!” House even brings his hands to the sides of his cheeks in faux surprise. Wilson laughs as House ambles through the door and they catch up on things.

House doesn’t have a case yet, but he doesn’t seem concerned just yet. A quick muttered statement about submitting all the performance reviews and a grant proposal again. While getting Rubens, with again, _**only one**_ plate of fries, Wilson brings up his questions in regard to the stats from the clinical trials. House’s snarky comment is quick to follow, “What is this Wilson? I thought you couldn’t discuss the details.” 

Wilson smiles at the cashier as he pays for their lunches, before they chose their favorite corner table and got to get their respective beverages celebrating Friday. Wilson, Dr. Pepper, while House goes for the unexpected Cherry Pepsi. “Whimsical choice there, House.” Wilson laughs as House takes a large fizzy sip followed by a massive belch.

“It feels liberating!” House then turns and they sit down to eat their Rubens while Wilson takes the time that he can’t explain things about the results, he wants to double check with House about his stats. Even with the limitations of what Wilson can tell House, he’s able to convey his questions about the different methods and what errors could happen from comparing across techniques. And Wilson sits back and begins to discuss statistics with House and the two have a very intense conversation. Sure enough, they sit in the cafeteria long past finishing lunch, when all that remains are a few crumbs of bread and puddles of ketchup with salt crystals around them.

Wilson finally glances at his watch to see it is almost two. “Oh shit! I’ve got to stop by the Oncology desk before Clinic duty!” He jumps to his feet as his chair falls behind him making a clatter. Normally, he’d be concerned about all the people looking at him and House, but he’s got to stay on schedule. Frantically, he tosses everything onto the cafeteria tray and right before he picks it up House moves it out of his reach. “Wilson, don’t worry. I’ll take the tray back. You go deal with your bald little cancer patients needs before the hell that is known as Clinic duty.”

Wilson freezes in place and he looks towards House, back to the tray and back to House’s face. It doesn’t look like this is a prank, so he turns to pick up his chair and sprints off. “Thanks!” House half laughs as he watches the flutter of Wilson’s whitecoat revealing the suspenders holding up his vintage wool pants. 

Thankfully, everything is fine in Oncology and Wilson only needs to sign off on a few papers and he even has enough time to chit-chat with Susan when Smith and Jones swing by the office. Wilson excuses himself and heads down to the Clinic to see a packed waiting room and Brenda gives him a terse smile, “Hello Doctor Wilson. Looks like you will be writing a lot of prescriptions for chicken soup today.” She hands him a file as soon as he’s signed in and he calls the first patient of his shift into Exam Room Two.

Brenda being the veteran of the Clinic that she is, is correct in her statement. Wilson sees wave after wave of patients sick with cold or flu viruses all wanting some sort of quick fix. Other than not having gotten a flu shot in the first place this fall, there isn’t much he can tell them. He finds most of his time spent convincing them that rest, fluids and some basic painkillers are the best solution. . . . The only blessing of the hordes of seasonally sick people is that his shift goes quickly and he’s able to sign out at five, wash his hands and face thoroughly, remove his whitecoat, making sure it is sent to be cleaned over the weekend. 

Wilson then puts on the vest, adjusts his hair and swaps out his normal dress shoes for the well worn Chelsea boots. The last thing he grabs is a coffee from the small newsstand in the lobby area and is on his way to the parking lot. His phone pings indicating she’s on her way home from work. As he settles into the car, he takes a large swig of the coffee and turns on the car heading to her place. Just before he turns onto the street, his phone pings indicating another text message. Almost perfect timing indeed. 

And his bladder reminds him of the pop he had with lunch now being chased by the coffee and he needs to go to the bathroom soon. Feeling rude, he enters he place and makes a straight line for the bathroom to relieve himself before even greeting her. He at least apologizes and makes sure to greet her once outside of the bathroom. She looks almost business casual. Plaid skirt with black tights and cardigan but then a graphic t-shirt he doesn’t get. Skinny Puppy with the – Grim Reaper. Okay. Wanting to make good time he asks her if she’s ready and she uses the bathroom before putting on her basic black boots with her winter outerwear. 

With that they are off and she tells Keith to not burn down the apartment. Wilson has been trying his best to keep his excitement to a reasonable level, but he just can’t stop fidgeting about this. It is going to be a new experience, or at least something he hasn’t experienced for a long time.

They settle into the Volvo and he begins their trip down to Philly. NPR is still on in the background and they chat about their days. Traffic isn’t bad and he continues to sip his coffee. Wilson then begins to realize his extra cup of coffee may have been a calculated error. 

As they reach the outskirts of Philly, he needs to recycle his coffee. “Hey” he clears his throat, “I need to take a bathroom stop.” He feels guilty as he ruffles his hair and glances at her. 

She glances at the coffee cup, “Oh, I see. Sure, it seems the next stop has several fast food places.”

Wilson smiles in relief and he makes his way into the exit lane and turns into the nearest place, a McDonald's. He pulls into a parking spot with precision. “Well, I’m going to have to buy something to use the bathroom.” She nods and seems to think a bit.

“Hey, why don’t we grab something to eat here, I mean it isn’t ideal, but it might be faster.” Her suggestion is a good one and his bladder is in favor of it. They get out of the car and she asks for his order. He’ll just have a chicken sandwich and hot tea.

When he returns to the counter, she’s handing over her credit card as they prep the tray. A hot tea, is joined by a water bottle, his chicken sandwich and a – happy meal? His brow becomes furrowed and she catches a glance up at him as she then appears confused.

“Is that – a happy meal?” Wilson feels silly asking, but he just has. She smiles and her free hand settles on the small of his back as they head to an empty two-person table. 

“It is indeed a happy meal. It is the only way that I can easily substitute fries with apple slices.” Based on her reply, this is a calculated response something she likely does by default. After sitting down, he adds a little bit of honey to his tea and she pulls out chicken nuggets, sweet and sour sauce and the apple slices.

Wilson realizes it has been some time since he ate anything at McDonald's, and it reminds him that it really isn’t as appealing as he remembered it. At least he went with the chicken sandwich a healthier option than a burger with fries. He’s more puzzled by his girlfriend’s selection of chicken nuggets and apple slices . . . then again it is a better option than most of the offerings.

He asks her if this is something she orders often, and not at all surprisingly with a very House like reply, she explains that this is the only thing she’ll get when on the road. Well, she might get a milkshake if it were a snack . . . either way she seems focused on dipping the maximum amount of nugget into the sauce, so he lets her be and eats his sandwich. Finishing their un-elegant meal, they both use the bathroom to remove the grease from their hands and feeling more relaxed head back to the car.

As they get closer, she pulls up directions on her phone and they are able to make it to the public lot close by. Just as he’s about to open the door, she stops him. “Wait, we aren’t heading in there with our coats and everything.”

Wilson blinks in confusion, “It is below freezing.” She puts her hand on his thigh, “Yes, and it is going to be bloody hot inside and we are not bothering with a coat check if it even exists. Come on, let’s take our coats off and walk as quickly as possible to the entrance.”

Not quite sure what to do, he decides to trust her opinion and they put their coats over the seats and at the same time almost leap out of the car as he locks it with the fob as it beeps and they speed walk to the venue entrance. At the door, there are a few people, but they are early enough that they approach the doormen and women. Wilson is shocked when they ask for his ID to check his age, which gets a gasp from the young man followed by the comment that “He’s older than he looks!” which is quickly mirrored by her opening her satchel and the woman comments that his girlfriend can’t be that old. 

With security cleared, they enter the hallway that leads to the ticket booth and she’s pulled up the digital copies of their tickets on the phone. With a large sharpie marker, their left hands get a sloppy circle and he’s looking around in the dark and somewhat damp hallway. “Come on, let’s get our bracelets so we can enter the balcony where the bar is.” Her right hand has grabbed onto his left and pulls him along to another small station where they are wrist banding everyone over the age of twenty-one.

“Are you planning on drinking? I mean it is an hour drive back home.” Wilson is concerned since she doesn’t seem to be a huge drinker in the first place.

“Oh no, I want to have access to all of the locations and perhaps additional restrooms near the bar. Since we are in Pennsylvania all venues have to split the floor for the all ages section and the twenty-one plus section. I haven’t decided where we should go yet.” Wilson feels like a puppy dog following her, but it seems she has a strategy all planned out. They finally reach the main floor of the venue the stage at the far end. The venue isn’t very full as they arrived with plenty of time to spare and he can’t get over how dark it is and how sticky the floor seems. He internally thanks her for the footwear suggestion.

Wilson then is led around as she swings by the merch table and she looks at the t-shirts, CDs, vinyl LPs and other random stuff for Purity Ring and what appears to be their tour openers for this show, Braids. She seems pleased and mutters something about missing seeing them at the Horseshoe due to food poisoning and vomiting in the bathroom and then heading home as the band took the stage . . . .

Wilson finds himself nodding along and feeling a little overwhelmed keeps his right hand on her lower back. After a quick search of the main floor she leads him up to the bar and balcony to determine if that is a better place to watch the show from. 

“What do you think?” her voice catches attention as he watches the people milling about below most seem to be under the age of thirty. “Ah, what, sorry?” Wilson looks back at her.

With a flourish, she gestures to the stage below, “Should we camp out here up at the bar and have an unobstructed view or should we head to the floor. I will say, if we take the floor, I am going right to the stage first row.” Wilson is surprised at her need to be so close. He can only shrug.

“I really don’t know, I mean you are looking at someone who hasn’t been out to see live music in years like this. What do you like the most?” He really feels that deferring to her is easiest. 

She nods and bobs excitedly, “Okay! We go for the floor. We must claim our spot and we cannot give it up until the end of the show. Bathroom breaks are too risky after a certain point. I’ll give you the warning if you need to go before things get crowded.” With that she’s got her hand in his and leading him down the stairs and the two of them head back to the merch table. With no hesitation, she inquires about seeing the small t-shirt for Purity Ring and holds it up before her chest to estimate the size. Satisfied with the potential fit, she hands over a twenty and thanks the girl working the table. Almost skipping she leads him towards the huge stage and when reaching it, she turns back towards him. “Alright. Now the waiting game begins!” he watches as she opens the satchel and rolls up the shirt which fits perfectly inside her bag. 

Then she pulls out a small plastic case and opens it for him to see that it holds foam earplugs. “You are going to need these, go ahead and take a pair and put them in your pockets.” He picks out two bright orange ones and puts them in his pants pocket. Smiling she reaches out and pulls him by the waist a bit closer to her the stage to her back.

“Thanks. I didn’t think about anything like this. So, I’m curious, just how many live shows have you been to?” He places his own hands on her hips, and she tilts her head in deep thought. After a minute or so, she replies, “That is a good question. I’ve honestly lost track over the years, but at this point definitely over one hundred. I mean I’ve seen several bands multiple times, like The Joy Formidable four times already.”

Wilson is shocked, that is a lot of time spent attending shows! “Where these usually with other people?” his question again brings deep thought.

“Maybe half and half? I’ve never had a problem going out by myself. I usually bring a book and read between sets. Though I’ve always liked the times I could go with a guy who I was seeing at the time.” and she’s beaming at him as he leans forward over her.

“Oh really? What makes that something that you liked?” His head begins to hang over her closer to her face and he sees a sparkle in her eyes. Her hands move up to his back and pull him a touch closer.

“I think you have a good idea.” Her mischievous grin is enough for him to lean down and kiss her and she sighs into his mouth. He hums and slowly pulls back as her eyes are closed and open slowly. She then looks at him before glancing back and forth and he follows her gaze to notice a few youngsters looking at them surprised. 

She then blushes and looks down at his shoes as he leans back giving her more space. “What do you think the average age of the crowd is?” Wilson asks her to get her back into the moment.

After a quick survey, she throws out twenty-three since the bar isn’t that full yet and the floor is slowly starting to fill up, but quite a few people have wristbands. With time to kill he moves next to her leaning back into the stage as they watch the crowd and begin to people watch. They try to determine who was driven here by mom or dad, who is hoping to get laid and what subculture their outfit matches with.

The local opener begins to set up on stage to play to a place two-thirds empty, but she turns to give them their due respect and pulls out her earplugs and he follows suit. The local band is rough and play electropop while trying too hard to seem overly emotional. Thankfully, their thirty minute set is just long enough for them to make their minimal presence known and the roadies appear to help them tear down as Braids set up. The house music has become louder as the floor begins to fill. She looks at the growing crowd and tells him this is their last chance to use the bathroom. She tells him to go first and she’ll swap with him.

* * *

You are heading back to your clutch spot just to stage right which Wilson is holding for you after your last bathroom break for the next two hours or so. Wilson is easy to spot, being tall and his vest and dress shirt make him stand out more from the crowd of kids wearing t-shirts and hoodies. He seems very interested watching the stage crew set up and you weave your way through the crowd to him, hugging him from behind. 

He jumps slightly before laughing and you slide in front of him and turn back to look at him. You noticed that he’s not wearing a tie and his dress shirt is unbuttoned earlier but didn’t comment on it. Taking this down time before the next band, you reach out to his open collar, “Hey, what’s with the no tie? Going for a more casual look?”. His right-hand wraps around your left before he intertwines his fingers between yours.

“I thought a tie would be a bit much. I wore one to work. Obviously. What do you think?” Wilson cocks his head and a piece of hair falls over his forehead.

His hair is sooo your weakness, especially when it gets just a little messy, “I think it looks nice. It does seem more casual, though I’d say both of us are overdressed!” he smiles at your comment.

“Perhaps, we are. Though I’m glad for your shoe suggestion. If this is what a clean floor is like, I can’t image a dirty floor.” Wilson seems serious and he even swings out a foot so you can get a better look at his Chelsea boots that look well loved.

The two of you then fall into a banal conversation about clothing and how to balance being professional and fashionable. The conversation comes to an abrupt end when Braids take the stage and both of you put your earplugs back in and you turn to the stage while Wilson is behind you his hands on your hips. It feels so nice and you begin to connect the emotions of the music with how his presence makes you feel so good in the moment. Music always makes sense to you even when you weren’t able to express your own feelings at times.

Braids put on a solid performance and when they finish you applaud and Wilson finally lets go of you to clap as well. Turning back to him you see how the floor is much fuller and people slowly migrate forward. Wilson finally looks back in surprise, “Wow, this place is filling up. I can see why you wanted to get here early. Well to this spot specifically, I mean.” He ruffles his hair and you just smile back.

In the most adorable way, he tells you what he liked about Braids and becomes more animated since he wonders what it would be like to see Purity Ring. The crowd has caused the temperature to increase and you take this chance to remove your cardigan and you lay it over your satchel pressed up against one of the straps. Wilson looks warm and he rolls his sleeves up revealing his arms and his very professional looking watch. You realize it is the only accessory that he ever wears, meaning despite his advanced grooming routine, it is one of his few ‘trademark’ items. He leans down, speaking towards your ear as the background noise increases, “I can now see why you were against having our coats. I can’t believe how warm it is getting in here!” You nod in reply and the din of the crowd becomes a dull roar and conversation becomes more difficult, so you lean forward giving him a slight hug and the two of you silently wait as the energy and excitement build around you.

Finally, the house lights drop, and everything goes dark as Purity Ring enter the stage and begin their set in darkness. Their live show is highly visual with large lanterns that illuminate and change colors as they progress. You begin to sway along to the music leaning back into Wilson and he pulls you closer to him. With that the two of you create your own bubble consisting of each other and the band before you. Wilson’s hands slowly roam your body and every so often he sneaks a kiss on the side of your neck when it seems a rather dramatic moment in the music. 

The entire performance is a haze with sharp points surrounded by the softness of the music, the constant touch of Wilson and you feel enveloped by everything in a warm cocoon of sound, light and hormones. It feels intimate even though the two of you are surrounded by undulating teens and young adults in their early twenties, a fair number clearly high. But none of it matters since you know if you lean back into Wilson, he’ll push forward into you and both of you stay in that safe space.

Purity Ring’s set comes to an end and they exit while the crowd waits for an encore. You turn back to look at Wilson and his eyes are wide open and he seems to have other plans as he leans down and whispers into your ear, “You have no idea how hard the drive back is going to be!”

Picking up on his urgency, you turn him around and place your hands on his hips, “Go!” and he slowly uses his size to work his way through the crowd which is beginning to break up slowly. He shifts so he’s holding your hand as he leads you back to the open corner across from the merch tables and moves into a shadowed corner.

The crowd cheers as the band returns to the stage and begins to play their last few songs. “Perfect!” is all he says before he leans down and kisses you wet and deep his hands grabbing onto your bum with force. In the dark corner the two of you make out like teenagers before curfew and as the music stops, he finally pulls back. “That will do for now.” His hunger is still in his eyes, but the sooner the two of you leave, the sooner you get back home.

Without any further words the two of you exit ahead of the crowd and the cold air jolts both of you to attention and you put your cardigan while Wilson makes a bbrrrr noise walking to the car. As soon as you are inside, he turns it on and the heated seats warm both of your bums and the defroster works to reduce the moisture from your breath in the car. 

“Good job Volvo!” you pat the dashboard as his car is definitely nicer than yours; the extras show at times like these. Once the car is back up to a reasonable temperature, he pulls out of the parking lot and heads back to I-95. Traffic is a little busy as many people are spending the Friday night out, and you notice the clock telling you it is eleven-fifteen and you begin to feel your age. Further from the downtown core the traffic becomes lighter and Wilson asks you to put something on the stereo from his ipod. 

Looking for something that doesn’t mess up the mood, you cue up Galaxie 500 and Pennsylvania bleeds into Jersey only marked by a simple sign at the state border. It is then you realize you are hungry, the curse of being up past your bedtime.

“I hope you don’t mind me eating something when we get back before picking up with things, I’m feeling a bit peckish.” Wilson looks at you and waves with his right hand. 

“I put some meringue cookies in the back seat in a ziplock bag. Go ahead and grab them will you.” You lean back and spot a bag almost bursting with them as well as a single cookie.

“Prepared I see!” you open the bag and the smell of several flavors hits your nose.

Keeping his eyes on the road, he explains that they are from House. He wasn’t allowed to come to work due to the poor weather by Cuddy so he baked out of boredom. Wilson then adds that House knows that you are going to eat some of them.

The light in the car isn’t great so you just pull out one of the perfectly shaped cookies at random. As soon as it hits your mouth, you feel the outside dissolve and a satisfying crunch with the light interior and a bright note of lemon tickles your tongue. It is amazing!

“Wow! House is clearly a talented baker! The perfect lemon flavor.” Feeling guilty you offer another one randomly to Wilson. He smiles with a quick glance and grabs it with his right hand before he pops it into his mouth.

“Mmmmhhh. Vanilla.” He chews while nodding his head. “You should try the cinnamon-apple one, it is red.”

Of course, he’s all about the seasonally appropriate flavor, but your doubts are cast away as you taste it. How the hell did House get the perfect balance of the tingle of the cinnamon with the tart-sweetness of apple.

“Christ,” you are still chewing it, “How does he do this?” 

“Too much talent and not enough of an audience.” Wilson’s statement sounds rude at first, until you notice the sadness under his cold cover. This clearly ties back to when he broke down in tears before Thanksgiving and it seems he’s thinking of how he moves forward from here.

Before things get too heavy, you fill the void, “Well, they taste good, so do let him know that I enjoyed them.” You put your left hand on his thigh and give it a good squeeze and he relaxes a bit glancing to you, “I will.”

The tension begins to dissipate as you bite into another meringue, mint! Crunching away, Wilson asks for the cookie, and you hand it over to him and he tries to eat it neatly while driving which shows him returning to normal.

“Hey, I have a question for you.” Wilson seems curious about something, but he feels the need to preface it instead of just asking.

“Uh, sure, go ahead.” You aren’t able to tell where this is going, and you decide to eat your last meringue cookie for the time being as you bite into a coffee flavored one.

Wilson cocks his head slightly before he looks at you briefly before returning his focus to the road as you approach Trenton. “Music is very important to you. I mean you estimate you’ve been to over one hundred shows and it is clear you are more than just a casual listener. When I put away my clothing in the dresser, I noticed that the drawers below were heavy and I stumbled upon your CD collection in alphabetical order.” Wilson then pauses as he ruffles his hair and smiles at you before returning his visual attention to the road.

“What I’m getting at, is that there must be something that music gives you that you can’t get elsewhere? And I think it has to do with how you connect to your emotions. Or that you are unable to find the right words to express your feelings. Thus, you turn to music as a more accurate depiction of how you are feeling.” He turns to you and his dark eyes dart back and forth quickly before he turns to the road.

You find yourself momentarily speechless; he has eloquently summarized how you feel, never having thought about putting it into words. The plastic bag slides between your fingers as they move without directed thought and you look at the taillights of the semi-truck ahead of the car. The sound of the turn signal clicks on as Wilson checks his blind spot and moves into the passing lane as you look at the trailer as you try to construct a reply.

Wilson stays focused on his driving and clicks again indicate his intention to move back into the same lane as the truck. He glances at you, his face soft and his eyebrows arched up just slightly.

“Am I right?” his voice is soft and has that slight feel of curiosity. It is not condescending, judgmental, cold, analytical or patronizing.

Taking a deep breath before clearing your throat, to collect your thoughts you finally reply. “I think I get what you are saying. That by listening to and connecting with music, I can more fully embrace and understand how I am feeling. Sometimes, the connection is so strong that a song can take me back to a moment. And I can remember where I was, what I was doing, the weather, the smells, the sounds and the feelings of that instance.” 

Wilson nods and gives a simple reply, “Go on.” And he gives you a quick glance and you put the ziplock bag off to the side and begin to speak with your hands even if he only sees them from the corner of his eyes.

“For example, I played Neko Case recently. The song ‘Magpie to the Morning’, track nine on the disc. I have a strong connection to that song. It was the end of grad school. I had defended my thesis, but a few weeks away from moving onto my postdoc. It was early July, and I was driving in my Saturn at the time with the windows down. I had just finished shopping at Target, on Union, heading back downtown to Ninth street where I lived in a Victorian house on the hill. The climax of the song about the mockingbird singing was playing while I was stopped at a red light where route 52 crosses Union and the small factory nearby had the sound of machines running. It was late afternoon/early evening and the warm air blew through my car. And in that moment, I realized in a few weeks, I would no longer be there. I’d be living in another country; a larger city and I wouldn’t even own a car anymore. But in that moment stopped waiting for the light to change I such a deep feeling of potential to move forward while saving that moment that would become past. It just pulls at me deeply.”

As soon as you said this, if felt like you had just spilled out an intimate secret. It was like something you never even had given a name to; now it had a full identity and solid being. You felt both vulnerable and somehow safe in telling this to him.

Wilson then tentatively speaks, “I see. That is quite a lot of detail for a single moment.” He shifts in his seat before he briefly turns to look at you, “Do you, do you have moments like these connected to other people?” He swallows before looking back at the road.

You think you can see where this is going, “Yes, I do. Of course, there are songs that connect me with various people; friends, family, people I’ve dated. I can tell you the song I lost my virginity to, to when I got high with my best friend or when I was in the car doing nothing exciting with others. I take it you are specifically asking if there are any songs that I’ve associated with you?”

He shrugs with a smirk on his face. “I may. But then again, I don’t want to spoil the moment.”

You honestly aren’t sure what you’ve associated with him yet. There has been a lot of music on in the background as your relationship has formed, but you won’t know until you hear a song again to see if it conjures up a feeling.

Understanding what Wilson was asking about, you give him the honest answer. You don’t know yet what you brain has associated with him. Until you hear a song again, you really can’t say. Though based on the show tonight, there is a good chance a Purity Ring track will stand out.

A large yawn escapes him, and you are glad to see you’ve just passed Trenton and are almost back to Princeton. The tenor of your conversation moves to what type of tea to make and how Keith is going to be super demanding when you get back.

Just after midnight, Wilson parks a bit further down from your place as the closer spots are taken. He pulls you to his side as you walk along the silent street your breath clearly illuminated by the streetlamps, your footsteps echoing off the low rise buildings.

Keith mews in absolute pain as the key enters the door and the two of you remove your coats and accessories and he demands your attention at this very minute. Reaching for his brush, you begin to groom him while Wilson puts on the kettle for two orange spice teas. Feline demands are met before the kettle even boils and you grab a few ibuprofen and hand two to Wilson, explaining they will help for tomorrow morning.

The tea gives you one last burst of energy and Wilson playfully looks at you. “So, with your vast record collection, what would be a good album for sex?”

Your mind immediately returns to Washed Out’s first album 'Within and Without'. The soft sound of the CD drive spinning makes you happy as you press play and sound fills your apartment and he walks up to you in the middle of the living room, his hands reaching out to you. His hands hold onto your hips as he slowly moves to the music and leans down to kiss you. This kiss feels like the one he started back at the end of the show, needy, wet and intimate.

His intention burns through as his hands begin to roam over your body and make it clear that he wants to touch more than your cardigan, as soft and comfortable as it is. Wilson slowly sways and leads you into the bedroom and turns on only one of the small side lamps before he sits down on the bed pulling you on top of him. Without his usual tie, you are able to nibble at his bare neck and he sighs as his hands tangle into your hair.

When you unbutton his vest, you see a pair of light brown suspenders and you can’t help but run your hands along them as he removes your cardigan. Over a period of time the two of you methodically and meticulously work your way down to where nothing is between the two of you and even though both of you smell like a long day of work followed by a crowd of sweaty people; it doesn’t matter.

Back to the present, you look at the clock to see that it is just before one and you still need to shower. As heavy as your body feels, you pull yourself off of his warm chest and he sighs at the loss of contact.

You take the fastest barely awake shower ever and he quickly follows. By time you’ve brushed your teeth you are almost ready to sleep right in the bathroom. When you walk into the bedroom you find Keith curled up, his ears in an annoyed position waiting for the two of you to just go to bed already. Wilson soon follows and he curls up behind you, spooning before you hear him drop off into sleep. Able to wiggle away to be slightly cooler, you soon pass out feeling lucky that everything went well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am always annoyed by statistics, even when I've talked to statisticians, I find myself frustrated. I shouldn't be, I mean I can run an ANOVA in SAS, but it is always fraught with a fair amount of swearing. It really gets down to what I believe to be a communication issue between biologists and statisticians. 
> 
> I am no young person, but when forced with the situation to eat at McDonald's, I will always order a happy meal with chicken nuggets, apple slices, sweet & sour sauce and a coffee instead of an orange Hi-C. I will defend this practice till the day I die.
> 
> I'm also becoming obsessed with vintage fashion Wilson. I need more excuses to dress him up . . . future chapters!
> 
> Let me tell you about the rules of concert t-shirts! You never wear the shirt for the band you are seeing. One time I was at the Empty Bottle in Chicago wearing a Wolf Parade shirt to see the band Holy Fuck; I was following the rules, but then I ran into a member of Wolf Parade at the bar(!) and I felt like I was almost breaking the rules. Thankfully he just nodded towards me every time he walked by. Turned out he was playing down the street (Division to be exact) as the Handsome Furs, and I chatted with his partner at the time, who was the other half of the Handsome Furs.


	22. almost december

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wilson fluff and brunch. Basic banal early relationship rituals and the conversations that follow them. House moves forward in his own life, putting himself out there even though it is the most terrifying thing that he could do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah yes, the urbanite ritual of brunch. A true post-coital ritual for new-ish couples. The best time to eat eggs benedict I tell ya.
> 
> Random realization. Apparently, I set my story in 2018 and we are blurring time a bit since this is season 6. Because I committed to putting Halloween on a Wednesday, I now must follow out all the appropriate dates for 2018. I could just try to ignore this, but my own head will explode so accurate dates we shall have. I think my Thanksgiving is off by a week in the fic, but the rest of the date will be correct!

The beckoning call of Keith’s meows ring out in the early morning light. It is breakfast time, yet neither human is responding. He looks at both of them sleeping, his human mom is out cold. The male human that has been staying over with her, whom he very much likes, is also unresponsive. There is only one solution, he must wake them up with more than the song of his people! He begins to paw at her face until his human mom moves. After a good paw grab to the nostrils, she’s up and moving towards the kitchen for the delivery of kibble.

Once happily fed, Keith returns to the bedroom to find the two of them snuggling with each other drifting off to sleep. He makes sure to wedge himself in there and soon curls up feeling warm and happy that it perhaps, he may have gained a human dad as well. Since Keith needs a nice warm human around. His mom seems a lot happier in this new location, but it is soooo much colder than the desert where he was born and raised. Perhaps she found him for Keith’s personal needs? He's so warm and comfy and he gives him lots of pets and chin scritches. After a quick lick of his shoulders, Keith then curls up into circular cat form bringing his fluffy tail to cover his nose as he drifts off to sleep.

* * *

You are out cold when Keith wakes you up for breakfast. He went for the ultimate move, paw to the nostrils and you are able to drag yourself out of bed and you feed him before flopping back into bed. The show was amazing last night but you are knackered from a full workday, live show and then sex before finally crashing. Sliding back under the covers, Wilson then moves and makes mumbling noises. Once you are comfortable you close your eyes and sigh ready to fall back asleep. Just as you are about to drop off, Wilson rolls over and he’s now spooning you as his face nuzzles into your neck. Unlike other times, his hands remain in a rather chaste position and it seems he’s more interested in snuggling innocently. This is reinforced by the shift in his breathing to slow and regular – he’s fallen asleep and you relax again. Right before you fall back asleep you feel the displacement of the covers near your feet of a cat sized amount.

The brightness in your bedroom wakes you up and you realize that Wilson has rolled back a bit from you. He’s still asleep and his right arm has flopped out at an odd angle. You are shocked by the time, it is 9:35, a clear instance of oversleeping for you and definitely one for Wilson. Waking up, your bladder makes its needs known and you slowly pull yourself off of the bed and use the bathroom. The coolness of the apartment sends you back to the warmth of the bed and you see Wilson begin to rouse but he’s barely awake. 

Getting back into bed with him, you lay your head across his chest and he sighs slightly and his left arm wraps around you. He definitely isn’t in a rush to get up this morning. So, you settle in and lie there comfortably on top of him listening to his steady breathing which begins to lull you back into a state of calm. Only, you don’t want to just lie passively there, and you begin to stir a bit while Wilson continues to stay on that sweet edge of awareness. Taking advantage of his rare instance of sloth like behavior, you move so that you can gently run your fingers along his upper body as you begin to feel more interested in other things. Becoming more active you kiss his collarbone and work your way up to his face and he only sighs, his eyes still shut, and his hands settle on your back, yet they only slightly move. Could it be that he’s just trying to experience things you are doing? Feeling that you need more of a response from him, you reposition yourself on him and lean down to kiss him on the lips.

Wilson sighs as his mouth opens and he lets you take the lead and his hands still lazily move on your back. This is really happening; Wilson is holding back. You decide this is both endearing, but also frustrating since you’d like to make use of his full range of talents. To pull him to your attention you begin with a slow and deep kiss and just as you seem to stop, you make a good pull on his hair with your left hand. Not hard enough to hurt but just to really get at the roots so that he’ll feel it.

Wilson gasps into your mouth as it is on the edge of becoming a moan. His hands also dig into your back just a bit and you know you are in business. Placing yourself firmly on his thighs, you press down and shift enough to feel parts of him waking up more than his sleepy eyes. Pleased, you go back to kissing him and gently tugging on his hair to make sure he’s more than ‘awake’ enough for you to make use of his full capabilities.

Wilson is finally awake as you lay across his bare and sweaty chest. His eyes are still a little sleepy looking and his hair is a complete mess but he’s smiling. “Morning.” You can’t help but smile at him and he beams back.

“Morning. That was a pleasant surprise to wake up to.” Wilson idly runs his left hand across your bare back as he grins like an idiot.

“I don’t think it was that surprising. Though I am surprised at how late you slept in.” Your honest statement only gets as smile as he leans back to look at the ceiling and sigh happily.

“Yeah, but really – yesterday was a long day. For both of us.” Wilson says this as he relaxes below you and you only hum in agreement. He’s right. It was a long day yesterday and you will not be super exciting today and it seems okay.

“Hey, I’m not in a rush or anything, but maybe we could go out for brunch today?” You look at him feeling that you should at least try to do something outside of the apartment. He gives you a good squeeze as he replies, “I think that is a great idea.” After a few more minutes of calm you finally get up and head into the bathroom and hop in the shower. While shampooing your hair, the door opens, and Wilson says “Sorry!” and followed less than a minute later by a flush of the toilet and the water temperature drops for a cold moment.

When you exit the shower, the aroma of coffee catches your attention and you quickly dry off and follow your minimal routine before entering the kitchen were Wilson is sipping a cup of coffee while reading the Post on your tablet. His eyebrows arch up as he looks at you over the coffee mug, the steam swirling slightly before his face. The deliciousness of coffee is soon before you as you sit across the tiny kitchen table from him. You hesitate to say something that might disrupt this unusually intimate moment and instead drink your coffee.

Wilson is finally the one to break the comfortable silence; “Well, I should hop in the shower. We are still up much earlier than those younger folks.” And he’s right, it is only ten-thirty in the morning, and he takes much longer to get ready in the morning than you do. The shower turns on and you finish your coffee before choosing your outfit of the day. The high is just around freezing, so full on winter apparel it is; grey winter tights, a black and gray calf length wool skirt and a basic cable knit sweater. This one is bold for you, cream colored, and you wear a grey t-shirt under it. The sweater is a youth large, technically the 150 centimeter size, and the sleeves are loose enough you could roll them up if you wish to.

Waiting for Wilson to finish his elaborate grooming routine you, plop down on the couch to watch TV and Keith sits next to you. The sound of the blow dryer is dampened by the door and a few minutes later a fresh-faced Doctor James Wilson emerges. He’s wearing the outfit from speed dating! The oatmeal colored sweater, salmon and cream striped shirt and jeans. It seems almost unusual to see him in it since it is almost too different from all the clothing you’ve seen him wear since then. He smiles as he ruffles his oh so perfectly styled hair and suggests going to one of the places on the main street, the ten-minute walk from your place towards where Bamboo Garden is located. You nod and let him take the lead.

The two of you discuss the temperature and decide to wear the full assortment of winter accessories. Due to his flowing locks, he pulls out those around the back of the head earmuffs, so he doesn’t mess up his hair. Incredible you think and you just smirk as the two of you exit the apartment and you lock the door behind. Once on the street he pulls you close to his side with his left arm on your lower back and he warns you that he hasn’t been out to brunch in a while, but according to the much younger nurses, the place he’s taking you to has excellent brunch. It is not surprisingly an almost expected hipster brunch place, called The Farmer’s Daughter with the industrial/rustic country décor. Gingham check tablecloths cover mismatched tables, and water is ready for the guests in a clear glass bottle with a flip-top. Chalkboards describe the menu for the day, and it seems you got there as the married with kids and one-thousand-dollar stroller crowd is just wrapping up and before the partied until 3 AM hipsters haul their asses in for the first bite of solid food in twelve hours. 

The fashionable host takes your name and has the two of you wait for a few of the tables to clear and the two of you squeeze into the small benches at the front of the place. Your stomach makes an audible grumble and Wilson laughs softly as he pulls you in for a side hug.

Thankfully, the two of you are seated at a small table in less than ten minutes and the server is automatically pouring coffee for both of you. With the limited menu for the day, it makes choosing a little easier. Wilson goes for the banana-almond flour pancakes with a side of a single scrambled egg and you get the eggs benedict with spinach. It is clear the two of you are starving and neither of you say that much, instead you both carefully glance around the place as the families with small kids give way to couples. It seems weird that you find yourself in the couple category again. . . .

The server returns with your breakfasts and they look amazing. With little hesitation, the sound of cutlery and chewing are the most either of you say for the first few minutes. As you are halfway done with your meal, you can finally breathe, and you look up at Wilson who is neatly cutting his pancakes into small squares as he looks at you with a soft smile.

“Hey, I have something to ask you.” Wilson keeps smiling softly as he takes a bite of his pancake and waits for your reply. You tell him to go ahead and ask. What could he be worried about now? 

Wilson clears his throat, “Right before Christmas, Princeton-Plainsboro is having a winter formal. Dinner, dancing and fancy dress – that sort of stuff. I can take a plus one, and I was wondering if you’d like to join me? It is December 19th.” Wilson’s soft smile has begun to form dimples on the corners and his eyes seem to be asking more than just ‘be my date.’

You’ve never been asked to a sort of event like this in your life. Places you’ve worked at haven’t had winter/Christmas/holiday formals. A part of your brain has come to a grinding halt since you have no context for something like this while the long-ignored part of you from high school that never went to dances or formals is - **_is excited_**? You think? Trying to appear calm, you take a sip of your coffee to cover up the fact you are chewing while he asked.

“I’ve never gone to a winter formal before. I guess that we wear nice clothing, eat nice food and awkwardly dance in front of your colleagues?” Wow, that was a winning reply to his question; and you find yourself grimacing. This was not what you wanted to say. Well not exactly.

Wilson’s head tilts to the side as he seems to process your reply and he points at you with his fork in his left hand. “Ah, as correct as those statements may be, seeing that I don’t know your own high school experience, you didn’t actually answer the question.” He then breaks out into a smile and looks mischievous his brown eyes sparkling a little. 

You facepalm in front of him trying to cover the growing blush of embarrassment and sigh loudly. “Yeah, I should have started with a ‘Yes, I’d love to.’ And then follow it with my understanding of things.” Wilson’s laughter makes you smile, and you go back to working on finishing off your delicious eggs. With vigor he finishes his breakfast and smiles sweetly at your server when she comes by to top up your coffee cups. It is then you notice how she smiles back at him, her eyes lingering a bit longer than normal. Wilson’s sparkle is rubbing off on her; man, he can be charismatic without even trying. Your brain knows he’s just being friendly and polite but a small part of you wishes he could turn down the friendliness . . . just a touch. 

To get back to the matter at hand, you realize with the formal on the 19th, it might be good to determine what his schedule for around Christmas is. You’ll be heading home on the 24th cutting things close but the 23rd is a very hectic and busy travel day. A sip of coffee proceeds you asking Wilson what his plans are.

He shrugs and ruffles his hair as he looks away and his eyes look a touch sad. “I’m working around Christmas. I’m going to take a week off around New Year’s instead.” A sigh of relief catches your attention, since you were the person who sighed . . . at least he’s taking time off perhaps it has to do with his ‘need to be needed’ personality?

Wilson then automatically asks you about your plans, shifting the focus to you instead and that twinge of sadness lingers to him. He nods as you state you are flying back home on the 24th and will be back in town on the 28th. Of course, Keith will need to be taken care of, and you don’t want to assume that he’ll take care of him but sense he will. Plus, Keith really seems to have taken to Wilson.

Your server has interrupted the flow of the conversation with the act of dropping off the bill in a little billfold. A quick glance shows that the place is starting to get busier and more younger individuals are standing in the small foyer waiting to be seated. It really is a sign the two of you should be moving along and Wilson also picks up on the need to shove off.

Final sips of coffee are taken, and Wilson places his credit card in the billfold and hands it off to the server the next time she glides by. She doesn’t hesitate to run his card and promptly returns for it hoping to turn your table sooner rather than later. You put on your coats but wait until the foyer to put on accessories and he gestures for you to take the lead and his left-hand settles on your lower back. Just as you enter the waiting area, someone calls your name. Squished and sitting on one of the benches is Matt from work and sure enough he’s with Kevin and a few others from pub trivia night.

Caught by surprise, you stop abruptly and Wilson bumps into you from behind instinctively apologizing by saying sorry. You step forward allowing Wilson to pivot around you and awkwardly greet the group. “Hello. Here for some brunch?” 

Kevin, very chipper replies, “We are. Last night was a late night DND game. After a successful campaign, we go out for brunch.” You nod and anxiously glance to Wilson who has now settled towards your right holding his gloves and earmuffs in his hands. His eyes dart to you before turning to the group all looking the both of you.

“Well, that makes sense.” You keep your answer brief wanting to head out and not suffer a death by small talk, but you discomfort isn’t noticed by the group; Matt is already speaking.

“Do you come here often? We are always here at least once a month.”

Fidgeting you feel obliged to reply, “This is my first time. Princeton has many places, and I’ve only been to a few.” The gate keeping nerd duo doesn’t give up on you as he forges right a head with the small talk.

“I see, it does take time to work through all of the eateries here. By the way, I noticed you dashed out of work quickly yesterday, everything okay?” He grins back and you are immediately annoyed. All the meanwhile Wilson is standing next to you silently watching. You again stick with a simple reply that you had a show in Philly.

“Oh interesting. Who did you see?” Kevin is now interested and as you really feel yourself just wanting to walk away, Wilson wraps his left arm around your shoulders and speaks up. “We saw Purity Ring. It was a good show, but we were up well past our bedtime.” He smiles as he gives you a reassuring squeeze and takes the lead. “I take it you work with my girlfriend here. Nice to meet you, I’m James.” And it is there that you witness his absolute skill at talking to others. It is then you can take a breath and your body relaxes, unaware you were tensing up. In this instance you are glad that Wilson referred to you as his girlfriend; watching the facial expressions of Matt and Kevin shift just so slightly as the word was spoken, was what it took to get them to notice and realize that Wilson was there the entire time.

With a fast recovery, Matt, Kevin, and the rest of the group briefly introduce themselves and all state what they do at work. Wilson smiles at all of them politely while nodding along. “It was nice to meet you, but we really should be going. Enjoy your brunch.” With a subtlety of an expert, his left hand tells you as much as his words, minutely pulling you towards him and the exit. You smile as politely as you can, “Have a nice day. See you later.”

And with that you and Wilson put on your winter accessories and he holds the door open for you walking back towards your apartment. Feeling annoyed you rapidly walk forward almost forgetting Wilson behind you. He takes hurried steps behind you to catch up and his left-hand settles on your shoulder. “Hey, are you alright?” his voice catches your attention quickly turning to look at his face, which shows a concerned expression, his eyes looking directly at you. A squeeze to your shoulder from him brings you to a halt; you look to the ground awkwardly as you move your hands unsure what to convey. With the gentlest tone of voice, he speaks softly. “Hey. Tell me what’s the matter. I could tell you were uncomfortable with those guys.” Only then can you look up at Wilson and it takes a second or two for you to finally articulate yourself.

Which is less of an articulate statement and more a giant dump of emotions that are entangled in your words. Those were the guys and the group from the work trivia night, and they were the ones who pissed you off and made you feel very uncomfortable. You weren’t looking to run into them and oh how did you fuck up by forgetting that Wilson was even there, and you should have introduced him, but you just wanted to leave. But you couldn’t leave because they just kept asking questions and aaarrrggghhh. As you raise your hands in defeat, Wilson leans in and wraps you into a large hug, and your arms just end up sticking out at an odd angle for a moment. He deepens the hug with a good squeeze and you then wrap your arms around him as he continues hugging you. “I’m so sorry. Men really can be assholes.” His voice is just above a whisper in your ear and you relax further into his chest. The fuzzy scarf tickles your nose and you can smell him; the spicy scent of his cologne mixed with his natural body odor. All of a sudden you want to head back home and snuggle on the couch with him.

Wilson then releases you and holds you in his arms before you as he smiles genuinely upon you. “Come on, let’s get back to your place.” You nod in agreement and he takes your gloved hand in his and leads you away from the restaurant and you finally manage a quiet but sincere “Thank you.” The next few minutes are in a comfortable silence as he gives your hand a reassuring squeeze and the two of you steal glances back and forth at each other while ambling along the fairly empty sidewalk. 

Back at the apartment and just after one, you immediately settle under the afghan on your couch. The sound of the toilet flushing followed by hand washing of adequate time, leads up to Wilson’s exit from the bathroom and he joins you on the couch. Once he’s in position with his right arm resting on the armrest, you move so that you are laying across his lap. Warm, safe and secure, the two of you watch TV just existing but neither asking or demanding anything from each other. You just are.

* * *

A yawn escapes from Wilson despite his best efforts. His girlfriend is laying across his lap and his left fingers are lightly tangling into her hair as they watch some terrible made for TV movie. He’s not really paying attention to it for several reasons; one – yesterday was a looooong day, two – he’s feeling a bit guilty evading her questions about the holidays and three – he is upset at how she had to deal with those guys from work, who are honestly the type of guys who make Wilson feel bad to be a dude.

That concert last night though, that was an experience. He had no idea how sexually arousing it was going to be and that drive back was torture. The sex though, it was really hot even if they weren’t quite 100% awake. And then this morning. Oh, he just let himself accept it all from her and he liked how she took the lead, but then again, he’s always a fan of early morning sex. And her response to the winter formal invite was adorable. It is clear she was not a popular person in school, yet in her blunt-House-like-fashion, she expressed interest. The winter formal will be a great evening to set up a romantic evening, either before or after the formal. . . .

He noticed that sigh from her when he told her he’d be working around Christmas. He should tell her why it does matter to him; that whole I’m Jewish but non-practicing and I can’t leave House alone around the holidays this year. And he could take care of Keith for her; he’s such a good boy as far as cats go.

Looking down at her, he moves the hair away from her ear as he continues to lightly play with it. She’s half-awake, looking at the TV with partially open eyes. Well, he can do his best to make her feel better and not worry about those jerks from work. One thing would be to snuggle with her. A soft ‘Hey’ followed by him telling her he’d like to lie down allows him to be on eye level with her as he pulls her onto his chest.

“Do you want me to take care of Keith while you are out of town?” he starts with a simple question to get around to addressing her concern without her realizing he noticed her concern. She smiles and replies that she’d appreciate it, but if he can’t he could go to a cattery. He reassures her that Keith will be fine for him to deal with. Just because he is working around Christmas, it doesn’t mean he’d be working a normal day since many people will still be out on vacation and less meetings are scheduled. She seems to nod understanding, but ultimately reaches the question he set her up to ask.

“Aren’t you worried about missing time with your family? You already stayed here for Thanksgiving.”

And even though he knew she’s ask this, her concern still makes his heart flutter a little and he falls for her a touch more. “Oh, it isn’t an issue for me. I almost always work Christmas, I’m Jewish. I’ll be visiting my family for Hanukkah on the 10th. So about two weeks from now.” He watches as her eyes glance around and her brow furrows and she makes a hhhhhrrrmmmm sound as she looks at him while not looking at him.

“Wait a second; you let me order snow peas with pork for dinner the one time. Which I’m not sure if you ate some of it. . . You refused the prix fixe menu at the small bistro because the special was pork . . . and you actually let me eat the pork buns in Philly.” Her facial expression is one of having solved a puzzle and she tilts her head as she looks at him.

He’s personally impressed with her memory and ability to recall things and based on how she’s looking at him with a smile of understanding and relief that he isn’t just denying himself family time.

“Okay, that makes a lot more sense to me now, but you don’t seem to go to temple or anything like that. Are your eating habits only just because that was how you were raised?” Her question is so like her, a mix of her observations of him and then trying to determine why he doesn’t quite add up.

He laughs lightly and ruffles her hair a little before replying that it is pretty much it. It is essential to add that he also enjoys Christmas and that he has no problem with presents; he’s given plenty over the years to friends (well House) and various ladies of course. She reaches out and ruffles his hair a little as she tells him that she doesn’t need anything for Christmas this year so don’t even think about getting a gift. This is followed by a firm statement that her family does not do gifts for Christmas, they think it is stupid and materialistic. 

“Wow, that is a rather unusual take on things.” Wilson finds himself blushing after it sunk it that he said this out loud and did not just think it. Whoops. She looks at him with a confused expression and then proceeds to explain why it is a very logical thing to do. After her well-reasoned argument wraps up, she does tell him she’s totally fine with birthday presents.

Wilson can’t help but smirk and playfully laugh at that statement as he pulls her closer so that their noses are almost touching. He’s waiting to see which one of them will make the next move as the sexual tension has been building ever since they started talking in such close proximity.

“I noticed something about your outfit today.” She smiles and he looks into her confident eyes.

“Oh, what about my outfit?” He’s curious where she’s going with this. He wants to know if she knows. 

Her right hand just barely touches his dress shirt collar and rests on his neck. “You are wearing the exact same outfit from when we met at speed dating. Is this on purpose?”

Oh, she did notice, good; he’d have been a little disappointed if she didn’t. He does his best poker face he can manage for his reply, “Do you think it is on purpose?” and he lightly wets his lips with a quick dart of his tongue.

Her eyes look deep into his. There is palpable tension in the small space between them.

“Yes.” It is all that she says and he’s so excited that she remembered and noticed. To increase the tension so that it will be a touch sweeter when it breaks, he pauses and looks back at her, still with his poker face (or what he thinks is his best poker face dammit).

“I love you.” is all Wilson says as he smiles before he moves in to kiss her and she’s hesitates for a second before kissing him back. It is certain that he’s not going to pass up a chance at afternoon sex in plain daylight. Well, not direct daylight but much more illuminated than normal. The only slight predicament is the fact that the condoms are in her nightstand and he doesn’t quite feel like moving for them just yet, though it would be a lot more fluid if they were within easy reach.

As hard as it is, he takes a break from making out with her to go retrieve a prophylactic or two. “Be right back.” Is all he says before kissing the top of her head and rapidly walking into the bedroom, where thankfully, Keith is napping on her bed. They won’t be in the visual range of Keith’s discerning feline gaze.

He returns to the couch where she’s laying on the couch fiddling with her remote. The TV has been turned off and the stereo is on and an album he hasn’t heard comes on. The singer is saying something about a 'terrible love', but it sounds soothing, nevertheless.

The condoms are tossed on the coffee table and he smiles as he crawls back onto the couch over her. He spends a moment just looking down at her, “Hey there fellow sweater nerd. We sort of match today.”

She runs her hands along his arms feeling is fine oatmeal colored merino wool sweater, “I guess so, with mine in cream and yours being beige/oatmeal.” Her smile is a subtle one only a trace as she looks up at him, her fingers just glossing over his arms. Wilson laughs lightly and leans in and begins to kiss her as she sighs, relaxing under his slow and gentle touch.

Their hands work their way under the sweaters and undershirts to find warm skin and they take their time working towards less and less clothing.

Only much later does he come back to his senses; he’s on his back, and her ear rests over his chest and his left-hand sweeps slowly back and forth over her bare back, a blanket only around their legs and the music plays softy in the background. Neither of them seems to be motivated enough to move from their current position

**_Put an ocean and a river between everybody else  
  
_ **

**_Between everything, yourself and home  
  
_ **

**_Put an ocean and a river  
  
_ **

**_Between everything, yourself and home_ **

This part of the refrain really sticks with him, it sounds so like **_House_**. His best friend is the expert of driving people away from him, and based on the extent that House has avoided getting close to others since he ‘lost’ Stacey a second time and his weird something with Amber and her death. . . House really has put an ocean and a river between everyone else. At least he’s now trying to regain things.

Needing to know what he’s exactly listening to he breaks the quiet. “Who is this? This song is accurate.”

She lifts her head to look at him, “The National. The album is ‘High Violet’. You thinking of someone in particular?” Her expression is one of complete attention and interest towards him.

He nods, “Yeah. It sounds so much like House. Doing all he can to avoid being hurt in his relationships by running or driving people away.”

She looks at him, her eyes surveying his face before she lays her head back down on his chest. “I think that may be very true for him.” She pauses for a moment as she snuggles into him, “But, he seems to give off a vibe of trying to stop distancing himself. . . don’t you think?”

Wilson sighs and looks up to the ceiling while he digests her statement . . . slowly, tentatively, House has been becoming more social. He behaved at Cuddy’s Thanksgiving dinner like a younger, pre-Vicodin House. Still ridiculous at times, but not so abrasive and he appeared to enjoy playing with Rachel (and Lucas). He tried to wear a tie and didn’t piss off Cuddy’s relatives which was a huge deal. Wilson has been observing the change post-rehab, but he’s been reluctant to admit it is a good thing for House, that if he began to think positively about things he’s somehow jinx House’s recovery, when that is something that can only be dictated by House and House alone.

Looking down at her, and still fidgeting with his left hand along her back, he replies, “I think you are right. I’m just so afraid to admit it. Like I’d wake up from a dream only to find House horribly addicted and spiraling out of control.”

She sleepily replies that it makes sense and he notices her eyes shutting. . . . . “Are we – um just going to lie here naked on the couch?” He’s a little surprised by her forward behavior. 

A soft mmhhmmm, is her reply and she pulls the blanket further up around them. Naked nap time it is. They reposition themselves and he watches her as she drifts off to sleep and he lays there, feeling a touch scandalous even with the afghan around them.

* * *

Saturday morning, House ‘tortures’ himself with the yoga class. The cold temperature has forced him to recently start driving which he isn’t keen on, but he’s discovering having a more stable temperate around his leg has really helped with the pain. All those years of riding the bike in the winter was only making things worse. The teacher was especially good this morning, she was able to help him get a bit deeper into a pose and he felt this strange release of stress and pressure from his lower back. It was incredible; he **_may_** have even muttered a small ‘thanks’ to her, but he’s not sure . . . you know with that hazy, fuzzy, half-awake state he’s in during the class.

His morning bath is relaxing, and he tests out a new essential oil that his therapist, Nolan, suggested he mix into his routine which surprised him. Nolan, is a very analytical, by the book sort of guy, but he told House that his baking addiction may be appealing to his sense of smell since he mentioned how he liked watching his creations grow in the oven and how you knew things were working when you could smell them. . . . Nolan may be onto something but again, that would be admitting he’s a good therapist. . . .

Wilson won’t be attending the swing dance tonight, which is a slight disappointment, but the man had the audacity to make plans with his girlfriend on Friday night. The thought of Wilson at a live show amuses him to no end, but he’s a little bit afraid that this girlfriend might be **_good_** for him. Yet, he senses he won’t lose him to her since she oddly doesn’t seem to want him all the time. He saw how she looked at him, she’s totally into him. She hasn’t moved into his place, nor has he jumped on the chance to cling to her twenty-four seven. 

House used to think that Amber was a weird situation where Wilson was dating him. That wasn’t quite right; Amber was far too outgoing and extroverted. She wanted the praise and attention of others to feed off of. As giving as Wilson can be in a relationship, House knew that it wasn’t enough for Amber. She needed _his_ approval, which he denied her in favor of her closest competition, Thirteen. She needed _Cuddy’s_ approval, which she lost due to being so aggressive towards her – Cuddy is not won over by that tactic; House has years of experience knowing it doesn’t work.

House deep down knows that Wilson’s current girlfriend is the one who is much more similar to him. Choosing her Wilson time and spending likely a fair amount of time alone, since she’s got to be comfortable with or needs alone time. Which ultimately is good for House – he still gets to have the same amount of Wilson time pre-relationship. 

Today is unusual for House, he’s got nervous butterflies in his system. He not worried about his performance with the band, he’s used to playing and is not the type of person to fuck up on stage. No no no. Tonight he’s going to talk to Sal and ask her to the winter formal. Which is terrifying! In his last session with Nolan, the man ordered him to do it. House tried to argue back about the potential for rejection and Nolan shot him down. Even if she rejected him, would it change House’s current status? No. So, he’s to ask her out. And move slowly as possible. House’s worst characteristic is when he snaps and makes a decision without thinking about it.

For this evening, he goes with his usual, jeans, graphic t-shirt and a suitcoat. He even gets a small heating pad that he can wrap gently around his leg so that when he’s playing he can decrease the pain. Though, his pain is always less while playing.

The rest of the band smile as the greet him and he chit chats with them as they set up and he simply sits in a corner unable to do the heavy lifting. Sal says hi, and he nods noticing again that she’s wearing long sleeves. The evening goes by quickly and House finds himself wishing it could go on later but also feels the call of his bed and sleep.

They head over to the bar and again, he keeps himself low key by having a single drink and doesn’t feel the need to knock back shot after shot. The group slowly thins out and people peel off one by one and finally it is just Sal. Two thoughts are bouncing about in his head; one – how does he broach the winter formal with her? Two – her penchant for long sleeves makes him wonder if she’s hiding something . . . it isn’t a question of is she, it is a question of what.

Sal catches his attention as she gently touches his arm, “Hey, something bothering you?” Her grey eyes are sharp, he thought he was playing everything cool. House finds himself oddly tongue-tied for an instant. “I ah – well.” House fumbles trying to find the words he so clearly could think but is unable to speak.

“How long have you been clean and sober for?” Sal looks him directly in the eyes and House gasps feeling completely outmaneuvered. He’s got no choice but to reply.

“Just around six months.” His throat feels dry even though he knows that it is all in his head. He opens his mouth to ask how she knew, but she smiles seriously and speaks. “Ten years, six months and twenty-two days. That’s how long I’ve been clean for.” She pulls one of her sleeves up on her right arm to show scars right at her elbow. Well, she’s just answered his second question; only the first remains.

House looks at her scars and then to her face. There is no shame or guilt there, just a statement of fact. Could he perhaps, learn something from her besides insider information on the east coast music scene? “How’d you know? That I’m a recovering addict that is?” House’s bright blue eyes are darting about her face and he can’t turn away from the straightforwardness of her expression.

“You have an air of fragility around you. I watched you when you spoke with your friends on the floor. They look at you with a tenderness that is tainted with a look of worry. That deep down, you’ll break again. So, they do their best to walk on eggshells around you.” Sal is now leaning against the bar counter as she glances to the bar tender for another two seltzers with lime.

House feels uncomfortable, yet safe at the same time. She understands what it is like to itch for a fix while working full time. He can just tell that was how it was for her and he can’t quite let her see just yet that he feels himself become more interested in her. “I see. Here I thought I was a model of addiction recovery.” He makes a grandiose gesture with his right hand to deflect any awkward and pesky emotions.

Sal takes a sip of her fresh seltzer through the tiny straw. “Oh, I’d say you are doing quite well. With my full-time music career, I’ve seen all sorts of people come and go. No, you seem stronger than many of them – something else keeps you tethered to reality – no matter how much it hurts.”

House feels reassured by her statement and takes a large sip of his drink, the carbonation making tiny pops of liquid on his nose. He’s curious, he didn’t get to meet any long term recovered individuals from opiates. “How’d you do it? ‘ow have ya been able to stay clean all these years? I mean drugs and musicians are like peanut butter and jelly. Such a delicious combination; for listeners that is.”

She fixes a loose strand of hair as she laughs, and her whole face is smiling, “It was fucking hell I tell ya. But I had a moment before I went into rehab where I was found by my husband at the time; I had ODed. It was a huge blur and only one thing stood out to me as I was rushed to the ER. That I wasn’t going to be able to have another macaroon again in my life and it felt so sad. I don’t know why it was a macaroon, but it was the moment I realized if I didn’t stop, I’d be dead, and I didn’t want that to happen. Fucking bizarre, I know.”

House was intrigued by her vision of a pastry . . . “Wow, that is fucking bizarre. Well better than hallucinating your best friend’s dead girlfriend.” He rubs the back of his short hair and yawns. “Does it get better? You know, the urge.” House’s question is honest, he needs to hear it from a person who is living through recovery, not Nolan, or Cuddy, Chase, Thirteen, Foreman, Taub and especially not Wilson.

“It does.” Her fingers lightly drag the condensation on the outside of her glass around, “The first year is the worst. If you can make it a year, things get better since you know you turned some sort of corner. It seems dumb it is based on what is an arbitrary number of days” she shrugs and pauses “but that’s the truth.”

House feels satisfied with her answer, “Ah, thanks, I guess.” And he fidgets unsure where to go next, he doesn’t want to scare her off by asking all sorts of detailed questions – just yet.

“What else did you want to ask me? I felt a second question from you.” She seems curious and her thin black eyebrows are quirked up waiting for his reply.

House looks to the floor and readjusts himself on the chair, “Oh nothing big or important. Just that work is having a winter formal and I can take a plus one. I was wondering if you’d be interested in joining me – as a friend and fellow musician. I mean if I need to get laid, I can deal with that on my own.” And he clears his throat feeling that she’s smart enough to read between the lines . . . .

Her head tilts to the side in thought, “I see. It would depend on my schedule. A lot of studio musicians are recording in the next few weeks to take time off around the holidays. I’ve already got sessions in Baltimore and New York on several weekends.”

House chews on the straw, “It’s the 19th, a Wednesday.” Hopefully, the fact it is midweek will work in his favor.

Sal smiles at him, “Well that I can do. I can join you as a friend and fellow musician.” She then offers her right hand to him and they shake on it. “Deal.” House nods and feels his body relax. Nolan may have been right. The act of asking was more stressful that what her response was. 

Both of them yawn and House gets the hipster bartender’s attention. He hands his card over and makes sure to cover her drinks as well. And the two of them slowly put their winter coats on and head out of the bar together. They stand outside as they both turn to head to their cars parked in opposite directions. House leans into his cane hoping it can move him more quickly along. But he then stops briefly to turn around and look at her. She’s stopped and waves at him, “Goodnight. Email me the details, I’m off to DC tomorrow for a few days of live shows.” 

House’s is reply is gruff, “Yeah yeah yeah. I won’t forget.” But he is smiling once he’s turned away from Sal and makes his way back to his trusty car. One day at a time. One day at a time.

* * *

The rest of your weekend goes quickly. Saturday afternoon you wake up on your couch and realize that you napped with Wilson naked and it was okay. Wow, you were more physically and emotionally exhausted than you realized. Sweaters are picked up from off of the floor and turned right side out as the two of you prepare supper. Wilson seems to be more affectionate than normal and his puppy dog eyes are able to convince you to spend the night at his place and put a few spare items of clothing at his condo. You just can’t say no to his eyes and those expressive eyebrows that enhance his adorable expression.

Sunday morning, you leave his place around nine to feed a starving Keith and deal with household errands and laundry. Wilson is going to be busy with work this last week of the month; he’s got paperwork to sign off on, a board meeting, poker night with House on Wednesday and already committed to joining him for a film on Friday night. Knowing that you won’t be returning to the pub trivia night, you look for something else on a Wednesday and find a drop-in art class at the local community center. They set a theme or technique for the evening and you just pay ten bucks to do a guided activity as much or as little as you want to follow the guidance. Sounds like a good enough option and the art class makes it clear that it is an all ages crowd, and you hope you can find some people to socialize with. 

With a week like this ahead, the two of you agree to have dinner on Thursday night and Wilson will sleep over at your place. He’s thinking he might be able to swing Friday night, but for sure Saturday. Feeling good with things, you get a message from your best friend, he wants to skype with you on Monday and things feel content as you unpack your groceries as Keith inspects them. As the weekend comes to an end, you smile to yourself as Keith purrs next to you on the couch and you sip herbal tea. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so feeling the soft, emotional, cuddly fluff. And yes, I hate having to participate in small talk with people I'm uncomfortable with; not one of my strong suits at all.
> 
> Keith point of view! Take that human narrators!
> 
> And no offense to those who play DND. Many of my lovely friends play, I was trying to think of a group activity that could be played well into the night and a LAN party just sounded like too much. I know so many types of nerds . . .
> 
> I love The National. God, if there ever was a band that could get you in the gut with their lyrics, it is them.
> 
> Yes, I just went there and created a love interest for House. I spent a lot of time debating if he'd be better suited to match with a straightedge individual, but what House is always looking for is someone who understands him without him having to vocalize those pesky emotions. I think the only person who House could truly connect with post rehab would be another person who has faced the similar struggles; and also someone who was high functioning like himself. House needs hard evidence to really commit to something. As important as Nolan was to him and his relationships with Cuddy and Wilson, he'd need a concrete example that his post-Vicodin life is possible.


	23. that push before the holidays

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Work gets busy for both Wilson and his girlfriend as everyone begins to tie loose ends up and meet corporate goals by the end of the year and before the start of the holidays.
> 
> Wilson picks up on House's suspicious good mood, while our reader is tackling a new challenge at work. Lots of banal action leading up to the weekend.
> 
> I honestly have no idea how many chapters this is going to be at this rate. I just keep wanting to write more and realize I need to add more chapters to keep it manageable for readers and for me between work and other things.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is corresponding fluff and smut for this chapter. It can be found under the 'Carefully Calibrating' series, chapter 6. On Thursday night when Wilson starts talking about the rapid snowfall is where the side chapter starts.
> 
> A fair warning, this is a pretty explicit chapter of more smut than fluff.

The work week begins with, an enormous pile of paperwork for Wilson to deal with for his department before the end of the month. He sighs as he carries it from Susan’s office to his own. The pile makes a solid ‘thud’ noise on his desk. Due to the electronic charting system going down and the substitute paper charts, he has to sign off on more documents because – there was more paper generated. The quick thinking of him and House may have gotten Princeton-Plainsboro out of pinch, but as the generator of those piles of paper he must now sign off on them since per the complicated regulations and insurance policies – he must.

To make things go faster or at least feel like they are going faster, he puts on a swing mix on his ipod and takes a vigorous gulp of his coffee and dives in. He loses track of time and only finally notices it is just after ten-thirty when his body is telling him to recycle his coffee. Walking by Diagnostics, he sees Foreman digging through the physical paperwork, not like House would ever dirty his hands with such a task . . . until he sees House in his office signing off on paperwork and focused. So focused, that House doesn’t even notice Wilson walk by, with his mouth agape as Wilson sees it reflected back at him in the door. Not wanting to distract House, he scurries off to the bathroom and swings by the small shop to pick up another cup of coffee – again, no need to disrupt Diagnostics.

With a fresh, well moderately fresh and lukewarm cup of coffee, Wilson returns to his office and gets back to the paperwork. He sighs when his stomach begins to rumble and realizes he’s only about halfway through. Which sucks, since he will have to prep for the board meeting on Friday; with Liu’s mat-leave and Jones as the new team member he has to report on her early performance and assure the board his department is working well; and hopefully can fit in some raises for those who have been around for some time. . . . .

And his office door flies open to House, serenading him, with a song about how Wilson is the only one to buy him a Ruben and fries. Completely stunned by musical theatre House, he finds himself frozen, pen still in hand above a document. “Oh, stop staring! You’ll make me blush like a schoolgirl!” House channels his inner ‘innocent girl’ routine, which over the years has dulled on Wilson. It really only works on those who don’t know him and his sense for dramatic scenes. 

But, he’s hungry and a glance to his watch tells him it is, shit twelve forty already! “Okay, okay. We can go down to the cafeteria for our usual. Just let me sign this one document.” Wilson points to it with his pen and House nods and hovers in his doorway. A quick scribble of his name and the date at the points indicated by the little sticky arrows (thank you Susan!) and he’s at least finished this one. Just it looks like a hundred more to go . . .

Putting the pen down and wheeling back in his office chair he gets up and adjusts his tie and puts his wallet into his back pocket. A nod to House and he follows him out the door and they make their way to the elevator. House has a bit of a swagger to his walk and he whistles a cheerful tune as they enter the elevator. 

“How’s the end of the month paperwork going?” Wilson looks over at House from the corner of his eyes but keeping his face forward. 

House shrugs, “I dunno, you’ll have to talk to Foreman. I’ve got him tackling all of the extra paperwork from our adventures in carbon copy.” 

Wilson keeps his gaze forward; he knows that House is lying and he’s not sure what it means; he’ll have to keep him under observation for the next few days to figure out what is up. They exit together, twisting their bodies just so that neither of them collides as they step out. The amount of trust and innate muscle memory is what allows them to do this wordlessly and without even thinking about it.

While in the line, House babbles about all sorts of random stuff while Wilson smiles and makes eye contact with the kitchen staff as their tray fills up with two Ruben sandwiches, only one plate of fries with ketchup on the side, yogurt, a banana and a Kit-Kat. House carries the tray to their favorite corner table for people watching and Wilson pays and then gets their drinks. Surprisingly, House requested a 7 Up which is much tamer than Wilson’s favorite (and default Dr. Pepper). Wilson finds himself narrowing his eyes as he tries to zoom in on House’s good mood and the clear high fructose corn syrup-based beverage.

Lunch is dominated by House’s good mood. He’s chattier than normal with a more relaxed and confident body posture than usual for a man clearly doing annoying paperwork and no case. So, Wilson does what he does best; he listens and watches. House starts off by saying that playing with the swing band was great on Saturday night and he should have been there! Nodding in reply, Wilson can only state that he was too exhausted from the night before. They aren’t spring chickens anymore and driving to a show, standing and then driving back is rough when you worked all day.

Of course, House makes a scoffing sound, “Oh come on, you aren’t as old as I am, and you definitely aren’t a cripple. You’re tired because you had sex when you got back; I know you Wilson, you can’t say no to sex.”

With an expected eye roll, Wilson gives House what he’s expecting, “House, you think more highly of my sexual prowess than what actually exists.”

House’s eyes are open in surprise, “Don’t tell me, you fell asleep on her in bed? Ya know - during the act . . .” and his right-hand gestures to the side.

This of course warrants another trademark eye roll and sigh, “No, that did not happen. Instead, I had to drive an hour back to Princeton, when I was already ready to go, you know, in Philly.” What this too much information for House? Perhaps. It has always been difficult to tell when he’s pushed his best friend with intimate details and House can be so fickle about such things.

But House’s reply seems to indicate he got what happened. “Oh man, that would be exhausting to deal with.” House looks away a moment as he seems to be thinking about how much he should ask about the rest of Wilson’s weekend. “Speaking of less below the belt topics, how was the show? Did you survive and evening with the unwashed youthful masses?”

Wilson takes a sip of his drink and nibbles on a fry with the perfect amount of ketchup on it, “Shockingly, I did! I’m still concerned about how sticky the floor was, but my girlfriend seems to have much more experience at attending shows, so, I was thankful that she took care of me. You know having earplugs and what type of shoes to wear.” And after saying this, Wilson knows he’s beaming and it must be so obvious that he’s head over heels for her and House can see it all on his face, in his voice and well, everything. House’s face confirms it for him, the slight smirk in the corner of his mouth as he chews on the straw to his fountain drink, the sparkle in his bright blue eyes . . .

“Yeah yeah yeah. Enough about your time spent among the youth of today.” House doesn’t press for details nor does he lambast Wilson for more. He just moves onto the next topic, which turns out to be Cuddy’s outfit of the day as the sound of her heels catches both of their ears. Honest and open communication about Wilson’s relationship is put on hold and House is retreating a bit with the change of topic. They almost got to it, but House isn’t ready to go there yet.

Not wanting to stay too late wrapping up paperwork, Wilson pulls himself up and takes the tray back to the return while House stands by waiting for him. They head back to their offices and House knows that Wilson is up to his eyeballs in paperwork, so he just tells him that on Wednesday he expects crunchy cheese puffs and some sort of tortilla chip. A soft laugh is Wilson’s reply and they head into their respective offices.

Wilson begrudgingly dives back into his paperwork but a page from Jones has him sprinting off to the oncology ward as one of his patients has taken a turn for the worst. She did everything by the book; got the patient stabilized, called in the nurses, but since this patient is one of Wilson’s she felt obligated to let him know. And for that Wilson thanks her and they rush to try to help out the older woman suffering from the impacts of what is really just uncontrolled and unregulated cell growth.

He sticks around to monitor her vitals for about an hour or so. After a quick trip to the bathroom and then another coffee, he returns to find Jones anxiously looking over her vital signs. Her expression when she turns to meet his eyes tells him everything.

“Doctor Wilson, her readings indicate” and Jones pauses briefly and swallows with what is a heavy heart. Wilson reaches out to give her shoulder a gentle squeeze, “Tell the nurses to call her next of kin. I’ll stay with her until they arrive.”

The next few hours are a serious of events that Wilson has become almost immune to; the arrival of the family or partner. He speaks to them calmly and softly outside of the patient’s room even though he knows that frequently the patient can see him, and as long as they aren’t looped up on drugs, they know what this means. Sometimes he gives them brief hugs or leads them into the room. The intention is always the same, this is your chance to say goodbye.

With the family in the room, snot filled tissues in hands with red eyes and runny noses, Wilson stays close by at the nurses’ station or sitting in a chair in the hallway. 

At nine-fifty-seven in the evening, his patient is declared medically dead. Her children and grandchildren cry softly and slowly exit the room. With his automatic gestures and words, he tells them, that she wasn’t in pain, and she appreciated them being there with her at the end. There are a few chaste hugs and sniffles from them, and he sighs as he watches them recede into the background as they walk further down the hallway. 

Wilson and the attending nurse complete the necessary paperwork and he clocks out of the oncology ward returning to his office. He sighs heavily noticing the huge stack of paperwork isn’t going away until tomorrow if not Wednesday. Finally, able to leave, he realizes he skipped supper and just wants to shower and go to bed. The parking garage is silent as he walks to his car, his footsteps echoing loudly. Tossing himself into the driver’s seat, he looks at his face in the rearview mirror, eyes lined with exhaustion.

Once back in his condo, he sloppily hangs up his coat, and tosses his keys and wallet in the bowl in the entryway. His shoes are toed off, not even bothering to untie them as he yanks on his blue striped tie to remove its hold from his neck. Wilson puts on the kettle to make a cup of chamomile tea and toasts two slices of bread. Lacking his appetite, he just spreads butter on the crispy bread with a little sprinkle of cinnamon and sugar. Silently, he eats his toast and sips on his tea feeling drained emotionally and physically.

With a little food in his system, he’s at least able to hang up his suit and put the rest of his dirty clothing into the hamper as he walks naked into his bathroom and turns on the shower. The hot water produces a cloud of steam that spills over the shower curtain and he steps in turning his back to the shower head. For a few minutes, he just stands under the shower as the hot water washes away the lingering scent of death. The almost scalding heat of the water helps to remove any tension from his body, and he begins to wash away the smell of the hospital room. His awareness of himself returns slowly; he begins to wash his hair and follow his normal routine. By time he steps out onto his plush grey bathmat and wrap himself in a matching towel, he feels like himself again. Moisturizing is the final step before he brushes his teeth and putting his most comfortable pajamas on. He collapses into his bed and sighs at the emptiness to his side. This is going to be a long week; both of them are going to be busy until Thursday. The click of his side lamp plunges his bedroom into an empty darkness. Wilson hugs one of the pillows as he falls asleep quickly succumbing to dreamless sleep.

* * *

The work week starts out rough for you. An early morning team meeting informs everyone that you are behind on fourth quarter goals (you wonder how this is possible since you can’t make plants grow any faster) and the scent of sweat and panic builds in the room. Never having to have dealt with this before you are clearly the fish out of water and nod along to the action plan created by your supervisor.

For the next few weeks the team has to focus on prioritizing experiments, analysis and then the reports. The goal is clear, have a good document to report to the higher ups to show that the team is performing as expected. Unfortunately, you will have to pivot to working on more of the data analysis and report writing and hand off more of the bench work to technicians and your lab trained hands twitch nervously wondering how frequently they will get to hold a pipettor at the rate things are going.

Thankfully, your fellow team members are reasonable people and you are able to divide up the work equally and will check back in on Friday to adjust anything if needed. Forced to retreat to your office and desk after lunch, you put on a large pair of noise cancelling headphones, tune in to KEXP or CIUT and get to work.

Writing is your most hated task; something about being stuck in front of a screen for hours on end trying to pull the words out of your mind and onto the virtual page. The only small blessing is that by tuning into a radio station with a live dj, you never can predict what will come on next and it makes for excellent background music. 

By four you are starting to feel antsy and it is difficult to focus but someone you manage to at least get a small figure finished for the report. Stretching out at your desk you look up to the fluorescent bulbs covered by dimpled opaque plastic and sigh. It is going to be a long fucking week. . . .

Keith eagerly greets you at your door and meows for his supper. After meeting his needs, you throw together a lazy supper and prep the Crock-pot for tomorrow morning. Based on how this week is shaping up it you will be thanking yourself for the future suppers.

The bell like tones of Skype chime over the internet as you call your best friend to chat with him. And you know for sure that you have **_a lot_** to catch him up on. As he picks up the call, his partner waves at you in the background as she passes by. Your best friend is wearing another sweater since it is definitely much colder in Sask, than Jersey.

And then you fall into the usual greetings, pleasantries and banal questions as Keith settles down next to you on the couch and begins to groom himself. Your best friend asks how American Thanksgiving was and he gets the full update. This allows you to lead into Wilson’s surprise chicken soup and caretaking. He nods along as you tell him about how well Wilson took care of you and he even went to see Purity Ring with you.

Your friend is pleasantly surprised that Wilson went to a show with you. A nonchalant reply from you, catches your friend’s attention. He knows that you’ve done something more exciting or Wilson has done something which has allowed you to determine and he presses what he did that is far more adventurous? Blushing like an idiot and looking away from the camera for a moment, you compose yourself before explaining that the two of you had a discussion about very mild kinks and Wilson took you shopping to purchase basic items for said sexual pleasure uses. A laugh of amusement and affection from your friend lets you know that he’s impressed with how this relationship is going for you.

Of course, you make it clear that you are by no means as exciting and kinky as your friend and his partner, but you are feeling like you are in a good place . . . but you leave things hanging. The hesitant pause tells much more than you actually saying something.

“He said it didn’t he? He said, ‘I love you.” Your best friend’s voice is 100% the truth. A sigh sounds more like a raspberry between your lips as the air is forced out of your lungs and you ruffle your hair. “He did.” You swallow with a hesitant pause, “And I haven’t said anything back yet.” Even though this is via the internet and video, you still turn away from the screen feeling nervous.

“What’s stopping you?” Your best friend’s voice pulls you back to him via the screen. He’s cut to the heart of the matter, literally and figuratively. **_What is stopping you?_** You like Wilson a lot; more than a lot, you have clothing in his condo; you feel so comfortable with him that you’ve stopped thinking about. You were worried about him not taking time off at Christmas. 

“I – I don’t know.” It seems like a foreign voice, but it came from you. You aren’t sure if you’ve ever said that to someone you’ve been involved with, you think that you may have . . . but you can only recall times you said this to family or your close friends and in a non-romantic relationship situation.

“Well, I think you should say it sometime soon. Has he said it to you once?” His statement makes you squirm. “Ah, twice now. I just. I just don’t want to make it seem like a cheap reply you know.” And that is the truth. You don’t want to just say ‘I love you too.’ Back to him because he prompted it. Plus, you are much more of an action person than a person to talk about your feelings as openly and freely as Wilson can. That isn’t **_quite_** correct; Wilson understands his feelings, yet he isn’t the most forthcoming, but when something seems important to him, he says it.

“Helloooooo. You still there?” Your best friend is waving at you through the laptop screen. Apologizing for being honestly lost in thought you, tell him that you are indeed still there. 

The conversation then moves onto other topics, he seems to have realized that you are pondering what he just said, and he thankfully leaves you alone with it. That’s why he’s your best friend after all these years.

Eventually, you end the call since you still need to shower and get ready for tomorrow. Your emotions flip back and forth between two things; feeling both relieved that you have no reason to not tell Wilson how you feel about him and then nervous about how you will go about doing this. Maybe at dinner this Thursday? 

A yawn moves you along to the shower and you finally go to bed and notice Wilson’s absence and think about what the type of situation would be the best to tell him how you feel about him. Keith snuggles up into your bum and you give him a quick tap, which is answered with a ‘beerrrrttt’.

Tuesday morning, you drive into work with a light dusting of snow on the ground. You are so happy that this apartment comes with a covered parking spot, so you only had to scrape of a bit of frost from the windshield. The roads are clear, and most people seem to be taking in the experience that is the first snowfall of the season.

With you working in your office, it does have one benefit, you can’t bump into anyone from the Pub Trivia night group. This is good since you aren’t quite ready to deal with them after your awkward tongue-tied encounter post-brunch. Work goes a little bit more smoothly today as you have almost accepted your current fate to be tied to your computer for the next week or so (you hope!) and you make it a point to take breaks either to go to the bathroom or to have lunch at the café in the main entrance.

As Tuesday afternoon unfolds, you’ve fallen into the groove and you are surprised when you see that it is almost five. Wanting to finish off a thought, you stick around a little bit later to tie things off rather than try to pick it up again tomorrow cold.

Leaving a little bit later than normal means you arrive home later than normal, and Keith lets you know he’s not impressed with this habit. “One of us has to pay rent buddy.” You tell him this as he inhales his kibble for supper. With the power of the simple Crock-pot you have supper ready to go and you settle down in front of the TV to brainlessly watch things while you masticate on your meal. You are still no closer to figuring out how to tell Wilson how you feel, but you tell yourself it is best to wait for something to organically happen.

* * *

By Wednesday morning Wilson is ready for the month of November to just be over! He overslept yesterday, well it wasn’t really oversleeping, he was in the office by nine. It was just disappointing since he knew a massive pile of paperwork was waiting for him.

House then got a case and spent a good half hour in Wilson’s office hiding from the research fellows while he waited for them to catch up to his observations on the patient. And of course, House couldn’t just sit on his couch silently – no no, House was chattering non-stop about which music recording studio on the east coast is the ‘best’ and he was citing musician feedback and cross-referencing it with key producers and their preferences. Sometimes Wilson had no idea to respond to these strange hyper fixations. Clearly, it must be linked to something House is interested in, but the exact details are too much for Wilson to follow.

Wilson kept glancing at his watch and when House hit the thirty minute mark, he threw him out of his office under the false pretense of having to do a quick round with the lie that Smith was out even though his rounds are minimal at best during this time of the month. A few snarky remarks where shot in his general direction, but Thirteen confidently walking towards House in the hallway meant his team was about to drag him back in for their updated differential. Despite his bitching and moaning, House truly has trained rather intelligent and tenacious fellows ever since Chase started with him. Wilson is certain that House under that sassy attitude is proud of how his fellows have developed in the past six years or so.

While in the oncology wing, he stops by Susan’s office to pick up what appears to be – **_fuck_** – more paperwork. This is really not his week. Giving into his exhaustion from the paperwork and the attraction of procrastination, he stops to chat with her. “No rest for the wicked, eh?” Wilson picks up the pile of paperwork while wiggling his eyebrows at Susan.

“Oh goodness Doctor Wilson. You are many things, but wicked is not one of them.” She smiles and he notes her seasonally accented outfit, white dress shirt, a soft sky-blue cardigan with a snowflake pin. Winter themed items have reappeared around her giant desk; if he were ever to lose track of what day it was, he could make an accurate guess plus or minus a week based on Susan’s outfit and office décor.

A light playful laugh escapes from Wilson, he’s got to play this one just right, “Susan, you are too kind. Wicked is perhaps not the best description of me, but I still have a lot to work on.”

Susan smiles and nods, “That’s true for all of us. Oh, by the way, have you returned your invitation to the Winter Formal? My husband is quite excited to connect names to faces!”

With that, Wilson figures to go all in for his procrastination and he and Susan discuss the Winter Formal for about ten minutes. It reminds him that he hasn’t even given thought about where to go out for dinner tomorrow with his girlfriend. Just before he takes the huge pile of papers, he asks Susan if she knows of a good quiet place for dinner that is new-ish. She replies with the new Vietnamese place (where he got takeout from a few times) which has a really nice dining area. And he’s finally back to his office; he’s still got a shit ton of work but hey, he figured out dinner tomorrow night. One thing taken care of.

The only good thing with massive amounts of paperwork is that it fills the rest of his day. Unable to make it home before heading to House’s Poker Night with the required extruded corn cheese edible products, he eats in the cafeteria and is able to get his tasks down to – will be completed Thursday – for sure.

While eating his lonely cafeteria supper, he texts his girlfriend just to let her know that he figured out dinner for tomorrow night and he’ll be at House’s Poker Night in a bit.

She sends him a fast reply:

**_Have fun. I’m off to an art class at the community center. Vietnamese sounds good._ **

He smiles at her reply. Wilson is impressed that she’s going to slowly work her way through various social activities until one sticks. That takes dedication, then again, he’s lived in Princeton for over a decade, so he’s stuck in his own ways.

After finishing his dinner, he swings by his office, pops in the nearest grocery store for cheese puffs and grabs some jalapeño and lime chips. He enters the apartment just as House is setting up the table with Chase, Tim, Stephen and silent Frank. “Oi, is your watch battery dead Wilson? We almost started!” House seems overly dramatic and almost concerned at his almost tardiness.

“I had to follow my orders sir!” Wilson holds up the small shopping bag with cheese puffs and chips while saluting with his other hand. House then smiles and waves his right hand wiping away all concern, “Excellent job private! You are correct to make sure you delivered the proper snack foods!”

Chase chats with Stephen, while they settle in to play and Wilson asks House about his current patient. “Oh, Thirteen has taken the lead on it, she’s the one who figured out the best clue during the differential.”

“Yeah, she was bloody brilliant. We are all on rotating shifts monitoring the patient, I’m on tomorrow at six so I can’t stay too late.” Chase in his loose posture begins to deal the cards while the men sip on their bottles of craft beer.

Tim has a good evening as things progress and Wilson is only to hold on but neither win nor loose his chips. Maybe it is good to just break even? He yawns as he tries to pay attention to silent Frank who has been slowly bidding more aggressively. His yawn sets of a cascade as Stephen and then Chase all yawn in rapid succession. “Hey guys, it is too early for this much –“ and House is cut off by his own yawn as everyone laughs lightly.

“It has already been a rough week.” Wilson looks at House and ruffles his hair, “I’m still not done with my paperwork and it has to be done before the thirtieth.” House’s eyes narrow and then he nods his head forward, bowing just slightly to Wilson. He knows what Wilson’s words mean, he lost a patient and of course he put in extra hours as a result. House doesn’t push it and instead concedes that he may need to make sure their game ends before everyone’s geriatric leaning bedtimes. This is of course accompanied with an over dramatic sigh and eye roll from House.

Wilson sticks around a little bit to help House clean up even though he’s struggling to keep his eyes open. “Wilson, just go home and go to bed already.” House’s voice catches his attention as he wipes down the table with a cloth. “You are making me sleepy just watching you.” 

Caught by House worried about him, Wilson’s smiles gently back at him and holds his hands up in defeat. “Okay, I’ll head home.” Nudged along by his best friend he leaves the rest for House to deal with and he walks out to his car parked on the street nearby. A single ping on his phone informs him of a new text. For some reason he pulls it out and checks, it is from his girlfriend.

**_This reminds me of you._ **

There is then a photo of a small canvas that has a painting of a sunset over the ocean. The colors are a mix of blue, lavender and orange . . . . he does like those colors. Could she have picked his favorite tie and dress shirt colors? A feeling stirs deep in him and he shakes his head as he tries to stay awake to unlock his car and drive home. Half-awake, he shuffles into his condo and drinks a glass of water before showering and again collapsing into bed. He sets two alarms to make sure he’ll get up by six-forty-five. That pile of paperwork isn’t going to finish itself off.

* * *

Wednesday keeps you busy all day, but you get your report to a place that you feel confident to stop at and leave at a reasonable hour. After more leftovers for supper (again, thank you Crock-pot) you make your way over to the community center for the art class. It is from seven-thirty to nine-thirty. When you arrive, you pay the ten dollars at the door and are instructed to pick a small canvas and to take a seat at an open table. There are people of all ages and you pick a spot in the middle able to see as much of the action as possible.

The instructor is a retired art teacher and tonight she’ll be leading you through how to make a sunset scene. She goes over basic watercolor use and gives a few variants, sunset over an open field, between mountains, over and ocean etc. . . What is more interesting is that once she’s done with the instruction, she then has all of the participants in the room introduce themselves and to say something unique. The entire event is informal, since you are to just briefly glance at the speaker and go back to your artwork. 

Deciding on a sunset over and ocean, you pick an orange and blue palette. Using a stripe of dark blue at the top you drag the wash down towards the center creating a gradient above where the orange sun will go. You are relaxed and spread your attention to listening to the other students while also slowly working on your painting.

When your time comes, you introduce yourself and just tell everyone you are newish in town and your cat’s favorite food is tomato. A few people then chat with you about their own pets and you feel like this might be a better crowd to associate with on Wednesdays.

As the class wraps up everyone thanks the instructor and shares their artwork. There is a wide variety of scenes and you are surprised at how different everyone’s color scheme was for the same topic. After a few more classes you think you may be confident enough to see if anyone is good to hang out with. . .

Keith is excited and ready for his nightly brushing when you enter your apartment at bit before ten. You brush him and look over at your artwork – it then strikes you; it is so - Wilson. Something about it just seems to capture him. Is it the softness of the painting and the watercolors? No, not quite, you then notice the colors are him. It seems even when you aren’t with him, he’s seeped into your conscience. Amused, you snap a picture of it and send it to him along with a text.

The next day you wake up due to Keith’s prodding and you are feeling excited to see Wilson tonight. It could be that you even missed him – a little. You decide to dress a little fancier today, Wilson sent you another message already this morning that he’s working hard to finish off things in the office, so he’ll just meet you at the Vietnamese place, Saigon Spring. It is halfway between both of your places and you won’t have much time to freshen up. With that in mind you select your outfit for the day and for dinner. There is a chance of snow in the evening; you go with basic black winter tights, a knee length plaid wool skirt and instead of a typical sweater you pull out a long-sleeve black top with a fancy lace insert over the chest which has been buried between other less flattering tops. To complete the look, you decide to use your fancy long lasting liquid lipstick, seeing that Wilson liked it so much the last time.

Work is oddly quiet; your entire team is typing away or analyzing data as everyone tries to meet their end of the week deadline for tomorrow’s meeting. You are really hoping it goes well, this is the first time you are in this kind of situation and you don’t want to be the person who lets everyone else down. Not wanting to lose too much time, you eat your lunch at your desk as you are still continuing to finish off those Crock-pot leftovers. This works out perfectly as you are confident you completed your part for tomorrow and are able to shove off at five. It has lightly begun to snow and it makes you oddly happy, but has slowed traffic down a fair bit. Sighing at the headlines on NPR your local station has a traffic update, looks like there was an accident and you will be cutting things close for supper. When you finally reach your place, you have just enough time to sprint in, feed Keith, and reapply the lipstick before turning back around.

The snow is slowly beginning to stick and the plows and salt trucks rumble by. You arrive at Saigon Spring just on time at six-fifteen and your phone dings with a new message. Wilson is just leaving work and he thinks he’ll be there by the half hour. Oddly relived that you aren’t late, you talk to the host and let them know you’ll need a table for two at six-thirty and you sit down and wait as your stomach begins to grumble.

Very few people some to sit down for dinner and most are picking up take out and you settle in and watch the various couples, single people and families getting their dinner for the evening. A gust of cold air blows in the door as Wilson makes a ‘bbrrrrr’ noise as he dusts snow off of his hair and coat. You smile as you see him fussing with his hair and he stomps his feet knocking snow off of his oxfords.

Standing up, he notices you and smiles and you wave him over. “Hey.” You just smile at him as he looks at you and he makes a small gasp as he looks at your face – lipstick 1, Wilson – 0. “I’m sorry I’m late. I was working on paperwork until six and then traffic was a mess.” He leans in to give you a hug and a kiss on the cheek.

“Miss, your table is now ready.” You turn to the host and thank him as he leads the two of you to a small booth in the corner of the quiet place and the smell of cilantro and chiles tickle your nose with a slight aroma of fish sauce.

The two of you take off your coats and hang them up on the small hooks on the outside of the booth. Wilson is wearing a dark red sweater vest over his cream and salmon dress shirt with a red tie and grey pants. This is a bolder look for him. You keep an eye on his gaze as you turn towards him with the more elegant and flattering shirt, his eyebrows peek up just a little as he smiles with those dimples in the corner of his mouth.

The two of you settle in and order a pot of jasmine tea and spilt some spring rolls. As the snowflakes flutter outside, there is only one real option for your main, pho. Feeling decadent you go for the duck pho while Wilson selects the beef. Between hot slurps of broth mixed with noodles the two of you unpack your busy weeks.

Wilson starts and it is apparent he has a lot to get off of his chest; a patient dying, a paperwork backlog and House is being mysterious about something. He still has the next clinical trial reviewer meeting tomorrow and then a board meeting. Wilson sighs heavily and looks into his bowl as he admits he still hasn’t looked over things for the board meeting. You reach out across the table and give his hand a little squeeze, you are certain he’ll be prepared in time, you recall he doesn’t have Clinic duty so he can still review the matters after lunch tomorrow.

His hand moves so that it is holding yours and he looks at you under those thick eyelashes. “You are right; it is just that I’ve been going non-stop all week.” He tilts his head to the side and his eyes flicker to your chest before back to your face. “Though I think I’ll feel better once we are back at your place.” You let go of his hand as you turn away with a blush.

Clearing your throat, you regain your poise, “Yes, sometimes it helps to just relax with someone else.” And you sip your tea trying to not think about how his sweater-tie combination makes you so hot for him.

Wilson seems to notice this; he shifts the conversation to your week, and you tell him about your team’s rush to pivot work priorities. It is a new experience for you, and you talk him through the details. He listens with great interest and nods along or asks for clarification as you release all of the nervous energy surrounding you over tomorrow’s meeting. By time you are up to date, you feel much better having said all of these things aloud to him.

Full of pho and wanting to move onto other things, Wilson quickly gets the check and the two of you exit to a steady snowfall. It looks beautiful as it reflects all of the light off of it as it falls to the ground. Wilson pulls you in for a quick kiss on the lips. “See you at your place.” And the two of you scrape off your cars in the parking lot and drive to your place. A few blocks from your apartment your car alerts you to having low tire pressure. You swear at the pretty but inconvenient weather. You’ll be fine making it back to your place; tomorrow morning you will have to find a gas station with an air pump. Ugh, the joys of car ownership. At least your car is parked under the cover.

You knock the snow off of your basic winter boots in the back entry and head up to your apartment. Just as you put the key in the door you can hear your phone ringing in your bag, it is Wilson in the lobby. You let him in and open the door. Keith is curious to sniff your wet boots as you hang up your winter wool coat, scarf, mittens and hat. A quick rap on the door is Wilson and you let him in. He’s got small clumps of snow all over him and his overnight bag and garment bag. Keith is very interested in the snow and he sniffs it and jolts back when he realizes it is cold and wet. You and Wilson laugh at his reaction as he then returns to rubbing your legs. 

“It is really starting to come down! Here’s hoping that the road crews are keeping up on it.” Wilson ruffles his hair and you go in for a hug. He smells like his musky cologne with that trace of cinnamon and spice mixed with his fabric softener on his shirt. You sigh as you pull yourself a little tighter and he hums as he kisses the top of your head.

When you look up at him, he smiles so softly, and he moves in to kiss you and the two of you are making out standing in your living room. Hands quickly begin to stray, and you put all of your effort into pulling back so you can lead him into your bedroom. Neither of you says anything, no words are required for where things are rapidly heading.

Wilson falls face first on your bed as he sighs into it. His arms are spread out and for a moment you just let him lie there before laying down next to him. He rolls to his side to face you and smiles in relief his right hand running along your side. You move closer to him and he rolls onto his back as you settle on top of him making out all the while.

You make quick work of his sweater and tie, realizing that you’ve missed (again that word) him more than you realized. Though it seems he may have missed you just as much based on how needy he feels at the moment. The rest of your clothing doesn’t stay on much longer and the two of you have hot, needy, energetic sex.

It isn’t clear how needy it was until you lay on his chest as your heart rate slows and you feel the sweat between your bodies. Wilson’s left hand idly tangles in your hair and you feel so content in that moment. “We should shower and change into our pajamas.” You look at him as he stares up at the ceiling with distant eyes.

“Hrm. Yeah.” Wilson is elsewhere and a dopey slight smile is just on the edge of his expression. Pulling yourself up and looking down at his face, you make your point known.

“I’m getting in the shower now. I’ll put on the kettle afterwards, but I really need to get to bed at a reasonable hour. I’ve got to head out early tomorrow to deal with the air in my tires.” And you slide off of Wilson and find your robe and slippers. 

“What’s the issue with your tires? I’ve got a portable air pump back at the condo.” Wilson then sits up in the bed, “I can help you out with it tomorrow. But in the meantime, just let me drive you to work, I can pick you up after the board meeting.”

You turn to him surprised, “What about the board meeting and then your evening of trashy TV with House?” Wilson ruffles his hair and smiles, “Don’t worry, the trashy TV isn’t going any where and House still has a case. Plus, he’s a big boy, he can let himself in the condo.”

After both of you shower and put on warm snuggle worthy pajamas, the two of you settle down with hot cups of orange spice tea and watch a little TV before going to bed after properly brushing Keith of course. 

It feels so nice as Wilson slides under the covers with you and he spoons you a little in the dark as Keith gets comfortable at your feet. You drift off to sleep feeling good; the bed somehow feeling more cozy than usual.

* * *

Wilson wakes up as Keith meows loudly and begins to paw at his nostrils! Ack! This cat is unstoppable he thinks. It is just before his alarm is set to go off, so he groans a little as he extracts himself from bed and turns off his alarm. Keith mews with insistence and he shuffles into the kitchen to feed him. With him fed, Wilson is able to hop in the shower before his girlfriend wakes up. He’s pretty sure she’s awake but she seems to really have a thing about not getting up any earlier than necessary. 

Freshly washed and moisturized, she enters the bathroom to shoo him out to urinate before eating breakfast. Today’s outfit is classic winter Wilson, navy v-neck sweater, black suit, light blue shirt and his blue and orange striped tie. He sips his coffee while she performs her brief but apparently useful morning grooming routine before she gets dressed. Her outfit today is more mainline professional, as she has her first important meeting. It shows with her brown plaid wool dress pants, a chocolate brown cardigan, light blue dress shirt and, of course she’s wearing a blue and brown striped tie. She looks good.

“Nice outfit today! Looks like you are ready for action.” He smiles at her as she looks towards him. 

“Thanks, I hope things go well. I figure it doesn’t hurt to bring my fashion A-game to the office.” If she’s nervous, it isn’t showing; that is the power of a nice outfit, it allows you to let your overall look convey your seriousness. 

A peek out the windows shows a few inches of snow across the city; thankfully the roads look clear and there isn’t too much snow that has been plowed up next to the parked cars. Wanting to give them enough time, he mentions how they should leave a little early. She nods and both of them put on snow boots before heading out to his car. As the car heats up, she pulls out his scraper and begins to dust off the side windows next to the curb and the back before handing it over to him. 

The Volvo has little issue getting to her workplace on time and they are some of the first few people in. At the entryway, he turns to her and gives her a hug and a kiss on the cheek. “Good luck! I’ll text or call you when I’m on my way over after the board meeting.” She smiles and blushes a little before turning down the hall to the Ag research wing.

Now used to the routine, he turns over all of his items and heads into the small conference room to eat a relatively healthy breakfast and have at least one glass of orange juice. A few of the reviewers trickle in late, including Eva. Looks like the weather was a bit of an issue for those commuting a further distance. She looks tired and distracted, and the company rep address the group once everyone is present. As they had requested, the scientists from the studies have sent additional information for the panelists and two are also present this morning to answer any more questions. It seems that Wilson’s request was taken seriously, though his politicking helped it get to the forefront of the discussion.

After his refresher course in statistics, he was able to dive into the data analysis with renewed confidence and the other panelists seemed to have brushed up on theirs if they were already competent in their work. 

The morning went quickly as their small group began to realize that the cell culture trials, and the clinical trials used vastly different analyses and that it was becoming clear that the clinical trials were only useful in some instances. It didn’t appear to be a total loss, but they were beginning to understand that the drug wasn’t a broadly applicable agent, it should be much more stringently used.

The group was able to come to a consensus and in the next session they would begin to compile their final report to the company. After Wilson picked up his possessions, he turned to find Eva behind him. She shifted just slightly before him. It was a minuscule shift, but he saw it. 

“James. Sticking around for lunch?” her voice was steady but he saw a slight bit of a question in her clear blue eyes.

“I’m afraid not, I have a board meeting this afternoon at PPTH which I am unprepared for.” He needs to head back to have lunch with House and then go over all of the agenda items. But he can sense she wants to talk to him. “How about a rain check for the next time? I won’t have a board meeting after that one and I can reschedule my Clinic hours.”

With a curt nod she agrees. “That works. I’ll make sure to put it in my calendar. I’ll see you in two weeks.” And with that she’s headed off to the restroom the distinct sound of her stiletto heels on the hard tile floor. For a moment his eyes linger on her figure; she’s an exceptionally attractive woman. Flowing blonde hair, clear skin, intense blue eyes, an hourglass figure and designer everything. Yet as she walks away it feels like he’s watching his past relationships walk off with her. All of those things capture a type of woman he’s dated, married and divorced. In that moment he knows he’s shifted into a new direction in his relationship.

House is napping in his office chair when he enters his office. “House. Lunch.” Wilson speaks firmly but not too loudly in case he’s in a cranky mood. The messy pile of papers and the absence of his fellows can mean only one thing; the case hasn’t been solved yet and House is frustrated.

A loud groan proceeds his three limb stretch and House makes a munching noise with his mouth. “Wilson! Perfect. Please join me for lunch and inspire me to make a breakthrough in the case.”

Wilson puts his hands on his hips as he sways back, “Oh yes, that is all that I’m good for. Just here to inspire you though banal conversation.”

House is standing slowly, as the cold weather usually aggravates his leg, but he seems okay. “You are more useful than that! You’re also paying for lunch.”

Wilson can’t help but laugh, pure and lightly as he holds the door for House, and they head down for some sort of meat surrounded by bread and a plate of fries to share. They discuss what trashy movie to watch tonight, which reminds Wilson to tell House if he isn’t home by six to just let himself into the condo. His girlfriend has a minor car issue, so he has to pick her up from work. This doesn’t get a reaction from House, either the case has him stumped or he’s distracted by something else.

House then turns the topic of their conversation to Wilson’s clinical trial reviewer experience. He’s curious if Wilson was able to make use of House’s statistics refresher. He smiles and nods that it was incredibly helpful. They discuss the non-specifics of what Wilson concluded and all of a sudden House drops his fry on the table.

“That’s it, there is a periodicity to the patient’s symptoms!” and with that House has stood up and is limping off to find his team as quickly as possible.

Long past being insulted by these random dashes of brilliant epiphanies, Wilson smiles to himself as he has fries left for him to enjoy in peace. He yells at House’s back “I’m thinking ‘Jaws’ for tonight!”

“Whatever!” A wave of House’s left hand shows him that he’ll control the horizontal on the TV tonight.

The rest of the day goes remarkably well; he had just the right amount of time to prep for the board meeting and it goes smoothly. One of the final points is on House’s proposal to submit to expand the number of fellows on his team and to allow for Chase and Foreman to have more independence as senior staff members. Cuddy confirms to the rest of the board that for the first time since he gained tenure here, he has of his own volition decided to apply for extra-mural funding and has already met with a budget officer to assist with the December 31st submission deadline. 

There is a small gasp of surprise among the board. Wilson turns away and smiles having to cover it with his hand when he looks back towards the rest of the doctors around him. ** _House, you really did regain what you lost of yourself in rehab – and you seem to have picked up something new_** ; he thinks this as a few of the board members begin to think what a positive House would bring to their academic reputation as well as their standing in the region . . .

The board meeting ends early and he’s out the door and to the garage as quickly as possible. He sends a text to his girlfriend with his ETA. A quick reply from her confirms that is perfect, she’s just wrapping up something right now.

The drive is uneventful, and he listens to the Arcade Fire CD in the car and pulls up in the short-term lot. A quick text is all she needs and within a minute she’s heading towards his car. When she yanks on the door, he realizes it is still locked and he blushes as he unlocks it for her and she enters.

“Hello. Perfect timing there, Doctor James Wilson.” And she leans in for a hug and they kiss on the lips. A little bit of her tongue teased him and all of a sudden, he’s feeling a bit distracted.

Wilson clears his throat as he settles in to give her a ride home and asks her how the meeting went. He’s happy to hear that she replies that their team had handled things really well and her contribution only needs a few adjustments and edits next week. She’s happy with that result but it is followed by a sigh; since her team was so efficient, they are to pick up the slack from another team and their workload will be just as busy as this past week.

It is too bad, he tells her, but sometimes being good at your job only gives you more work and she just laughs. The continue to discuss their days as he drives back towards downtown, when he hears the ping of an incoming text message. The only other people who could have sent one would be Cuddy, or House and he’s thinking it will be House. 

After parking his car on her street, he pulls it out to check – he’s no crazy person trying to play with a smartphone while driving. House sent him the message.

**_Stuck at PPTH while monitoring the patient. I won’t be able to come over for trashy TV tonight. Enjoy canoodling with your girlfriend instead._ **

Another text then pops up.

**_And when I say canoodling, I mean having sex._ **

Wilson laughs out loud at the second one. “House, not one for subtlety - ever.”

His girlfriend is getting out of the car as she asks, “What about House?” He smiles at her and motions for her to lean in closer. “You know about that kiss you just gave me?” his nose is now almost touching hers, “I think I need to confirm what that meant.” And he goes in to kiss her hard and wet as she sighs.

When they pull back, she seems perplexed, “You need to head back to your condo. Unless . . .”

Wilson begins to get out of the car “Unless” and as he speaks to her over the hood, “House is stuck at work and I’m suddenly free this evening.”

And with that he’s grinning like an idiot and he sees that look of lust in her eyes. This evening is going to be a fine Friday night and he doesn’t need to get up early tomorrow. Wilson offers his arm to her and they walk into her building. It is going to be a fine evening indeed he thinks as the apartment door shuts behind them and Keith mews at his arrival.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm working on how to get things to the winter formal a little bit more quickly, but I'm really bad at glossing over details. I'm the type of person who likes to pay attention to the little details in day to day life; how things that you observe around you lend to knowing the season and time of year.
> 
> In other news, I was listening to NPR and heard that one of the electronic medical charting systems went down this week due to a software issue/malware attack and all of the users had to switch to paper charts. So, I was completely correct!
> 
> I've also realized I can't remember the last time I've had Vietnamese, specifically pho! [sighs] There are only two places where I live; one switched to a very reduced menu due to the pandemic so I can't order anything from them and the other doesn't seem to have an online menu . . . to facilitate a take out order.
> 
> It may be a popular opinion, but Pho Hung in Toronto really is the best I've had and the duck is delicious!


	24. weekend with Wilson

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> All Wilson, all weekend. That's it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A thought and conversation driven chapter. More discussion of feelings and learning how to communicate in a relationship for Wilson and his girlfriend.
> 
> There are sexual scenes that alluding to most of the actions. Mainly fluff, with a lot of smut left to your own imagination.

Wilson is smirking across the hood of his car after he told you that House is stuck at work and he can spend the night with you. The way he’s looking at you makes something stir in yourself – until you hear your stomach rumble for supper. You ignore your hunger as he offers his arm to you and the two of you enter your apartment as Keith mews in excitement for supper.

While you feed Keith, Wilson uses the bathroom and when he enters the kitchen, he’s taken off the suit jacket and is only wearing the sweater and he ruffles his hair as he sighs and looks at you. His eyes are half open and his small smirk is growing on his face as he leans into the wall as you wash your hands after finishing up with Keith’s nutritionally balanced supper.

That look in his eyes pulls at you – you **_were_** feeling hungry, but now it seems like a distant biological need. You tilt your head to the side and his slightly follows as he still remains against the wall but makes no move towards you. Slowly, you step towards him as his expression remains the same, only his dark brown eyes following you. When you finally reach him, your hands settle on his hips while his hands land on your back and the two of you look into the other’s eyes silently.

Neither of you moves, there is this moment of complete calm between both of you and it would seem wrong to interrupt it. After a minute (or it seems like a minute) you pull yourself flush with him and his hands slide down and the two of you kiss. Wilson hums in approval as his tongue tickles to top of your mouth. When the two of you pull back for a breath, he slides to the side and he gently places your tie between his fingers. With a quirk of an eyebrow and another smirk he leads you towards your bedroom.

You had almost forgotten that you were wearing a tie all day and you feel like you almost match him . . . Wilson definitely is traditional when it comes to his preferences e.g. the bedroom for the most part; honestly, you can’t complain tonight, it has been a busy week for both of you. As both of you settle on your bed, you take off your cardigan while he pulls off his v-neck sweater. In a moment of complete synch, you reach out to remove his tie while he begins to tug at yours as well. Things progress from there and sometime later you find yourself laying, face down on your bed as Wilson lays on top of you, most of his weight off to the side thankfully.

Only then does your stomach rumble loudly enough that he notices, “Wow, it sounds like you are hungry! He rolls off of you and smiles as he kisses your cheek as you blush a little.

“I guess I am. Though, I didn’t put much thought into what to make tonight and now I’m too hungry to cook something.” You run your fingers though his hair messing it up, “Since I was distracted by a handsome oncologist.”

Wilson laughs as he sits up, “Oh, I see, it is my fault.” and he begins to look around for his underwear.

“Exactly!” You reply as you stretch and notice how if you were to go out again, you’d need a shower, with a quick sniff of your armpits. “Ugh, a day of important meetings and then post-sex sweat, I need a shower.”

Wilson has put on his underwear and he’s rooting around in the drawer (well half drawer) you donated to him to pull out his pajamas for later. “I agree with that statement, any idea what you want for food?”

You are craving something easy and unhealthy, diner food, a place that serves breakfast for dinner, but you don’t know where to go. Wilson smiles as you explain your preference and replies that he knows the perfect place and shoos you into the shower so that he can also shower.

A quick shower and casual change of clothing later to a t-shirt under a sweatshirt and jeans, you wait for Wilson to emerge, unsurprisingly with his McGill shirt over his undershirt and his ill-fitted jeans. You obviously find him attractive, but the man could use a more flattering pair of jeans . . . and you finally notice how much later it is on the clock, seven-thirty! Far past your standard supper time. With a sigh as he ruffles his hair and begins to put on his shoes a signal to you to head out.

A quick drive close to the university campus, he performs a textbook perfect example of parallel parking before he offers his arm to you again. Less than a block away, he leads you to a 24-hour diner. The diner isn’t too full as seven-thirty is beyond early for the undergraduate students and only a few small groups are chatting or studying for finals while classic pop hits of the 50s and 60s plays over the outdated stereo system. The two of you seat yourself at a small booth and a half-awake server appears to ask for your drink orders. With your desire of breakfast for dinner you get an orange juice while he orders a milk – which is so endearing in that innocent juvenile way.

Pulling the slightly sticky and worn menus from behind the jukebox request console, you hand one to Wilson while flipping to the all-day breakfast page. They have biscuits and gravy! Excellent. You know exactly what you want.

When your server returns with your drinks, you order biscuits and gravy, a side of hash browns and a single egg over easy. Wilson goes for the standard omelet with cheese and mixed vegetables. For some odd reason you feel dirty having supper after sex . . . this sly smile, just around the corner of your mouth would tell any observant person what happened earlier. Wilson smiles back at you and then becomes interested in the possible songs to select from for the juke box; he excitedly points at various artists asking for your input before he settles on a few Beatles songs; ‘Paperback Writer’, ‘Eleanor Rigby’, ‘Doctor Robert’, ‘Norwegian Wood’ and ‘With a Little Help from My Friends’. All of them seem fitting for his personality somehow.

“Anything else to add?” Wilson looks at you and you nod as you flip through the section and are excited to see that they have the B-side from the ‘Paperback Writer’ single, ‘Rain’ and you tell him to add that one. “Interesting selection.” He submits the request and as the current song ends it begins to play his requested tunes.

With the selected songs playing, the two of you then settle in to wait for your food while watching the various early twenty-somethings. A few students are holed up in a corner booth, cups of coffee, half eaten baked goods that are precariously balanced on open textbooks and a wide mess of papers between them. Wilson sighs, “I don’t miss that aspect of undergrad; the sheer amount of all-nighters I pulled in places like this were too many to count.” You reach out and tap his hand with yours in a ‘there-there’ sort of way.

“Aw poor pre-med young James Wilson . . .” you try your best to keep a straight face, but you know you begin to lose your composure when his hand flips over to hold yours and his thumb rubs the back of your hand. He smiles holding the moment which is broken by a very loud, “Ah-hem.” From your server above you.

Wilson meekly smiles at her as he rubs the back of his neck and your eyes dart away as quickly as your hand across the table to your lap. Steaming hot plates are laid before you and all of a sudden all you can think about is how hungry you are. Ketchup is squirted artfully onto your hash browns and you pass it to Wilson automatically before he can even request it for his omelet. 

“That’s some spread you’ve got there.” Wilson smiles as you have a mouthful of biscuit smothered in the mysterious off-white creamy and delicious gravy. “Oh man, you have no idea how long it has been since I’ve been able to get this in a diner.” His eyebrow inquisitively rises, “Even the hash browns?” Nodding with another mouthful of food you are only able to make a mhm hmm in reply. Your taste buds are far too happy for any other sort of reply. God, you’ve missed these simple diner items which were either non-existent or poorly made in your previous location.

In contrast, Wilson is carefully cutting up his omelet, though still eating with a speed indicating that he was potentially famished as you are. As you continue to eat, you slow down as your body fills with the additional calories. Taking a breath, you finally are able to speak. “Shit, that hit the spot. I can’t think of the last time I had good hash browns and basic biscuits and gravy. Breakfast burritos may be delicious, but over five years of them and not many other options gets old.”

He’s just watching you as he takes a sip of milk and it leaves that little mustache on his upper lip before he wipes it away with a small cheap paper napkin. “That sounds reasonable.” With a playful smile his eyes look up and behind you, “Check out the couple in the booth closer to the door.” You turn your head slightly to not look suspicious and you see two young undergrads gazing into each other’s eyes as they can’t look away. “How long do you think they’ve been dating for?”

That power of their hormones and emotions is almost visible around them, you try to recall what it was like to be an undergrad, but sadly your own relationship experience was rather limited. . . . “Oh, I don’t know. I’d say maybe a month.” You reply curious where Wilson is going with this. 

He tilts his chin up his right hand coming to support it as his elbow rests on the table and he smiles as he watches them. “Perhaps. I’d say they just started dating, less than a week. After this they’ll definitely be fucking.” His dark brown eyes then look directly at you and a smirk appears and his dimples are obvious, “Though, I’m not sure if they’ll match our weekend.” 

You are unable to reply to him at first, as you are in shock as his statement. He just laid down the intention to have a sex filled weekend. Sure, you are game for sexy times, but he’s ready to go, with the intent to out fuck twenty-somethings. . . and you just ate greasy diner food, which will need some time to work its way through your digestive system.

Embarrassment flushes across your face, “I ah – well you seem to think highly of my.” You struggle to think of a word that fits – “my stamina.” Wilson laughs lightly as he nudges his foot into yours, “Don’t worry, I know how to pace myself.” And he then fucking winks at you and your brain just can’t compute - anything. 

“Here is your check.” The server forcefully places the white paper face down and rolls her eyes at Wilson’s unusually forward statements. It snaps you back to reality as more people start to trickle in setting up for late night study sessions to be followed (or interrupted) by the last call crowd; ready for that greasy food to chase down cheap alcohol and the sort of memories made with your friends only after two A.M. in your early twenties.

“Thanks! Everything was great.” Wilson is dazzling her with his maximum friendly customer service smile which bounces off of her annoyed exterior, “Whatever. Bring the check to the register to pay.” And she turns to take orders from a table that just sat down and you catch a brief mumble of “old people sex . . .” but the rest of it is too hard to follow.

Wilson turns to look at her in shock before turning to you with wide eyes as he speaks in a hissed whisper to you, “Did you hear that?” his eyes dart back and forth as his right-hand gestures for emphasis. “She said ‘old people sex’. God forbid that people over the age of twenty-five enjoy sex.” He shakes his head sadly and sighs.

Not wanting to sound cold, since the comment was clearly targeted you and Wilson, you reach your hand across the table to his and give him a good squeeze. “Come on, let’s head out. We are surrounded by an increasing number of twenty-somethings and you know that to them, anyone over the age of thirty-five is difficult for them to wrap their heads around.” You smile and then do your best to nudge him along, “Plus, I’m sure you’ll want to prove their assumptions wrong.” And you wink at him as you get up and put your winter outwear on. 

Wilson laughs as he stands up following you to the register to settle the bill; the entire time his hand is on your lower back. Another server meets you at the register as he hands over the small piece of paper with a credit card. While he runs the card, Wilson playfully pulls you in for a hug sneaking a kiss on your cheek before, accepting his card back and signing the receipt keeping his customer copy as expected. “Thank you. Have a good evening!” His statement to the young server is meet with a weak smile and he replies to both of you. “Thanks.” 

With that you return to his car and Wilson asks you if it is okay to swing by his place to pick up some fresh clothing for tomorrow and the electric pump for your tires. You reply it is fine with you and he makes a detour to his condo.

* * *

It has been an interesting Friday and it isn’t even over yet – Wilson thinks this as he selects casual clothing for tomorrow and then digs around in a closet containing his various tools. After locating the electric pump and an extra tire pressure gauge, he finds his girlfriend sitting on a kitchen stool as she seems lost in thought. Her expression changes as his footsteps approach and he tells her that he found everything, but that they should wait until tomorrow morning to deal with the tires when it is light.

She smiles and thanks him for his help, and he hands over the pump and gauge to her while he puts his clothing for tomorrow in a canvas shopping bag since his ‘standard’ bag is still at her place. He would feel bad if more of his small personal bags kept setting up shop in her place and he senses that she’s the type of person who’d become uneasy with it.

The drive back to her place is uneventful and he notices how the cold dark of winter covers the city. He still can’t shake off the comment by the snarky young server from the diner. By no means is he remotely old; **_if anything,_** he thinks he looks quite young for his age and his personal life has always had a youthful vigor. The comment didn’t even bother his girlfriend and he knows that she is right, but it swirls around him. Does he look that old? Hell, in this relationship he feels like he’s acting like he’s in **_his_** twenties. Or his sexual performance is as though he’s in his twenties, the rest is definitely reflective of his current age. Is he giving off enough of that feeling that others can see how horny he is? Are twenty-year old’s jealous of his sexual openness? It wasn’t like he said anything crude. 

A loud yawn escapes from her before she speaks, “Excuse me! Wow, I’m starting to feel the carbs settle down.” Turning to look at her while the car idles at a stoplight, he smiles as she looks at him with a neutral expression. Exhaustion shows on her face as another yawn bubbles up and he can’t help but yawn along with her this time. And there is the difference between mid-career professionals and undergrads; a need for a reasonable bedtime.

When they return to her place, Keith is impatiently waiting for his nightly grooming and treats. She takes care of his feline needs, while he swaps out the dirty clothing into the bag replacing it with fresh for tomorrow (and future dates). He returns to her kitchen and puts the kettle on for tea. Her hands snake under his arms before she hugs him from behind, her face pressing into his back. She speaks into his back, “You read my mind. Pour me a cup of lemon ginger will you.” As she releases him, he turns to look at her and he feels happy. Actually, more than happy, content. Mmh, is all he replies, and she moves to settle on her couch under a blanket, turning the TV and queuing up more Doctor Who. The kettle boils; he pours the boiling water into two mugs, dropping in tea bags to steep for a few minutes. Carefully, he walks over to the couch and places the hot cups down on the coasters before them on the coffee table. She shifts her position and holds up the blanket inviting him to join her. Wordlessly, he sits down next to her as she leans into his side while pressing play on the DVD.

While the Ninth Doctor runs across the screen with Rose Tyler in their adventures, he feels comfortable. He and his girlfriend periodically sip their tea and he laughs at some of the cheesy jokes while she smiles beside him. After two episodes it is clear they need to go to bed and she uses the bathroom to wash up before changing into her pajamas.

“What time do you want to get up tomorrow?” She’s fiddling with her clock radio turning of the usual alarm. Wilson turns on to his side to look at her, “How about eight-thirty?” he glances to the side while creating another thought, “More importantly, what do you want to do tomorrow?” he looks at her as she sets the alarm before replying that is a good question. The click of the light envelopes them in darkness and he curls up to her while she lays on her back. She rolls to face him in the dark and he can faintly see the features of her face. 

“I’m not sure, but I think we need to do something active.” She clears her throat, “Besides your proposed activities which are strictly of a private nature.” Her right hand squeezes his left hip for emphasis. Wilson sighs trying to show faux hurt, but she’s smart enough to know that she’ll call him on it if he were trying to be serious.

“Well, first off, we need to deal with your car, but I see your point.” He ruffles his hair with his left hand thinking of something to do in the cold weather. “Can you skate? Ice skate?” she scoffs at his question, “Of course I can skate – I have a pair of skates in the closet.” Her right hand gives him a quick smack to his bum annoyed that he’d even have to clarify what type of skating he was discussing. He huffs slightly but is more interested in her right hand resting on his hip.

“Okay, okay” and he leans in to nuzzle her neck as he finishes his statement, “I’ll keep in mind you can skate.” And he shuts up as he buries his face between her neck and breasts, making sure to wrap his left around her back. Her body seems briefly surprised before a soft sigh of relaxation and her hand guides him onto her allowing her left to dive into his hair.

Wilson hums an approval into her chest his hands sliding along her torso before sneaking up under her shirt. Screw how tired he is; he is ready to go as she pushes gently up into him and he fondles her chest. She sighs in response to his gentle touch and he moves forward to kiss her. 

Feeling incredibly impatient, he makes quick work of things before collapsing on top of her as his exhaustion overwhelms him. He’s barely able to shuffle off to the bathroom to clean up and she almost bumps into him on her way in. Wilson then melts into the bed only wearing his pants and falls asleep not long after she and Keith both wiggle into comfortable places.

The next morning Wilson wakes up to the sound of talk radio before he hears her hand smack the snooze bar and she rolls back to her pillow. He blinks as he slowly moves. Did he just sleep all the way until the alarm went off at eight-thirty? The light flowing around her dark curtains indicates as such and he catches a glimpse of Keith at the foot of the bed asleep and cool air hits his skin reminding him he fell asleep without putting his top back on.

Wilson debates trying to find where it ended up and instead opts to spoon his girlfriend instead. She’s warm enough and he pulls the blankets around his exposed shoulder as he snuggles up to her back. A very soft and quiet hum comes from her. He whispers into her ear how warm she is while she makes her soft scoffing noise, in disbelief that she’s warmer than him. A warm fuzzy feeling surrounds him as he lay there around her body, his eyes closed while she slightly pushes back into him.

Could it be that he can press his advantage this morning? The thought of having sex is more than enough to spur him into action, to well, have sex. Wilson takes his time as he nuzzles her neck and begins to softly kiss her, starting from the back of her next and making his way to her exposed ear. After a kiss onto the outside, he moves to gently bite her earlobe just as the alarm goes off again. Thinking of things more interesting than weekend edition, he hums before whispering to her to just ignore the alarm as he begins to move against her back, his ideas for the morning more than clear enough. 

With a light sigh, she turns to him and looks at him through sleepy eyes, and her right hand ruffles his hair. “You’re incorrigible, you know that, right?” She smiles at him and he laughs at her joke before he rolls so she is above him and they begin to make out. The headlines of the day and new stories fade into the background, a white noise and it is only much later that he can comprehend what the newscaster is saying on the NPR station.

Wilson feels more than warm enough with her resting on him, but they should wash of the sweat and think about getting dressed. His left-hand glides over her spine and he realizes he can’t seem to get enough of her. He’s already told her several times that he loves her, but he may have underestimated to the degree that he’s fallen for her. The only thing that bothers him, is that she has yet to say it back and it makes him worry. By this point in a relationship, he would have normally had her declaring how much she loved him whenever he told her how he felt or she would have **_definitely_** said it during sex in a moment of passion.

He finds himself scrunching his nose and his hand comes to a stop on her upper back as he looks up at the white ceiling. For a reason that he has no direct evidence for other than his gut, he is pretty sure that she loves him. And she has been clear that he’s like kryptonite to her and her emotions. Which is more than House would ever admit to him, emotion-wise that is. Should he broach the subject with her? Or would that then force her to respond in a way that she would not like? It seems that when it comes to things like these, she seems to deeply ponder them before they are articulated into words. He recalls how long it took for her to call him her boyfriend, but when she said it, he felt so damn happy.

“You okay?” her voice brings him back into the moment to see her looking at his face pulling herself up on her arms across his chest. It seems she picked up on his thoughts . . .

He smiles at her, “Yeah, I was just lost in thought.” With a tap on his hand on her back, he continues “We really should get up.” It seems to be the right answer as she sits up and the warmth between them is broken by the cool air of the bedroom.

“I’ll go ahead and shower first. Can you make coffee?” Her eyebrows arch up and he nods that he certainly will. With that, their morning begins with the two of them showering and enjoying coffee with a basic breakfast of granola, yogurt and dried fruit. 

They dress casually and similarly with choosing to wear knit sweaters. Thankfully, he selected one of his grey ones and she’s wearing the small cotton navy sweater that House found tipping him off to her existence apparently (House disclosed this fact after he returned the hairdryer during one of their strolls through the halls of PPTH). 

His girlfriend is curious what time they will go skating so that she can decide what pair of socks to wear. Wilson isn’t sure when the open skate is at the local indoor rink, so they sit down to see the available times. There is open skating from two to five and then seven to ten they need to decide it they want to deal with the parents of small-ish children or wound up teenagers in the evening slot.

He also considers that they may bump into people they work with at the afternoon session and Wilson advocates for the evening time slot. She agrees, but makes it clear they will want to be there earlier rather than later. Before anything else, he reminds her that they need to check her tires. It is a cold day below freezing, but the sun shines brightly over a light dusting of snow that fell last night; it looks striking and he thinks of how he’ll spend some time with his family next weekend.

With her assistance, Wilson checks the tire pressure and finds one is quite low relative to the rest. They top up the rest before focusing on the very low tire. She wonders if it has a puncture since it is normal for pressure to decrease due to the drop in temperature (and they are all weather). He shrugs that she may be right, so they’ll come back and check it later. With car issues dealt with for the time being, they aren’t sure what to do . . . but know that they should hang out. A quick glance through her fridge and pantry, she thinks a trip to the grocery store is a good idea and he thinks making lasagna would hit the spot with the cold weather.

The they wander the aisles of the local grocery store, oddly empty. Perhaps people are fussing with Christmas shopping and other things? Not wanting to miss the chance to pick up items for himself, he purchases items for the next work week, and she helps him unload them at his condo before they return to her much smaller apartment. Wilson’s mind begins to wander while he places some of her items away in the small pantry. 

When was he **_this_** domestic in a relationship? Amber was high maintenance and preferred going out to eat, which was taxing on his waistline and his wallet. He cooked for himself, but she didn’t join him nor share his healthy lunches. Julie frequently cooked for him, but he was rarely there for it and by time he realized he needed to ‘show up’ for those dinners it was too late. Wilson recalls how he skipped out on the Hannukah dinner she had organized to drink beers and have Chinese take-out with House. Wow, if there was such an obvious sign in hindsight that their marriage was over long before it actually was over. 

Bonnie was a disaster in the kitchen; he cooked when time allowed, but he was pulling long hours at Princeton-Plainsboro to get promoted to his current position and then when he cheated on her, it was an excellent excuse why he couldn’t help her with meals. It was such an easy excuse and it took a long time for her to pick up on the fact that he wasn’t always working late or covering for another doctor on call. It all came to a crashing halt when the woman he was seeing ended things with him and he came clean to Bonnie. She just nodded along while she burnt her grilled cheese on the stove, canned tomato soup boiling instead of simmering, the natural sugars burning to the base of the pot. 

And then there was Sam; she was of equal skill to him in the kitchen and their original deal was to alternate as young medical students & residents. Slowly over time, their deal broke down, and when Sam cooked, she’d leave a huge mess for him to clean up since their deal was one cooks and the other cleans. It would have been fine, but on the days that Wilson cooked, she’d be too busy to clean up or would make it up to him on the weekend (which never happened). Now that he thinks about it, his relationship with Sam was like when he lived with House after he left Julie. He’s glad that post-rehab House had more than enough excess energy to cook for him but also wash the dishes, clean up after himself and do both of their laundry!

After all of the items are in their proper places (according to his girlfriend) they set out to prep the lasagna to bake this afternoon. She argued for the no-boil noodles, but he prefers to boil his and then lay them out when they are _al dente_. Their solution was that Wilson was in charge of prepping the noodles while she gives him a hard time about it. The local independent radio station plays in the background and the music and programming varies while they chop veggies, sauté some onions and begin to assemble a complicated meat free dish.

Wilson finds himself unusually quiet and he keeps coming back to comparing this relationship with his previous big four. Keith watches them from the table and attempts to steal a slice of red bell pepper from a bowl where Wilson was sorting them for the layering and assembly process. She teases him how using the no-boil noodles would have gone faster but concedes that when two people are working together it isn’t that bad. He finds himself smiling and to sell the power of teamwork he wiggles his eyebrows before bumping her hip with his.

The oven beeps as it reaches temperature and they put it in to bake for the next hour and they lay down on her couch while she puts on a random program on in the background, some sort of travel show featuring soup from around the world. He lays down across her lap and her fingers immediately tangle into his hair and he hums in approval. As much as she comments on his hair, he damn well knows that she loves it. But he’s under the suspicion that she likes to see it messy.

They watch the TV a comfortable silence between them and he feels his eyes getting heavy as the host tries a bowl of ramen in Sapporo. “James.” Her voice catches his attention and he turns to look up at her, his eyebrows curious. “I was wondering . . . . for the winter formal, what type of clothing is expected? I’m not sure if I have anything that works or not.” He makes a point to smile at her, “I’m surprised. So far, you’ve had lovely dresses that you’ve worn. I’m only going to wear one of my black suits with a dress shirt and tie. This isn’t a black tie gathering or anything like that.” 

Her head tilts to the side while thinking and she smiles back at him. “I might have a few things that will work then, but I definitely don’t have a super formal dress.” Wilson sits up so that he’s now on eye level, and with a playful quirk of his left eyebrow he makes a suggestion that he very much likes, “How about showing me what you have? A second opinion never hurt.” She seems immediately excited by the idea, and states it is brilliant. The oven timer beeps telling them it is time to remove the aluminum foil and add cheese. He volunteers to take care of the cheese while she goes to change.

A few minutes later she enters the living room wearing a black dress. It has a long sleeves, ends just above the knee and it has a classic slight hourglass shape. Around the neckline and the upper back there is a black lace insert that shows just a small amount of skin. It looks amazing on her; he can’t understand why she was worried about it. “It’s great! It also looks like it is warm too.” She nods indicating it is a heavy fabric with a lining. This isn’t her only one, so she wants to try another one as well. 

Wilson thinks the current dress is more than sufficient, but maybe she has one even better? A few minutes later she appears before him wearing a simple A-line black dress. This one is much more fitted on the upper body and arms with a white and back patterned fabric on the front. The dress flares out from the waist down and ends at her knees. It is still good on her but the first one was definitely classier (and sexier). Wilson holds his right hand under his chin in thought. He has to make his response as believable as possible to get her to change back into the first one. “Hrrmm. I don’t know, I think I need to see the first one again. This one is good but something about it seems slightly – casual?” 

She seems to agree with him and returns wearing the first dress and his heart skips a beat. Shit, she looks so hot and she walks up to him. “What is your professional opinion Doctor James Wilson?” He feels a slight blush and looks away for a second. “I think after careful consideration, this one is better.” Without even thinking he approaches her, and his hands settle on her hips and he looks down at her in the basic, yet not basic black dress.

A sly smile spreads across her face and she places her right hand on the middle of his chest. “I have a good idea what you are thinking right now. I’ll go ahead and wear this to the winter formal, but you will have to do something for me.” Wilson looks at her and feels her index finger tap lightly against his chest. Curious to know what she wants; he nods and asks her what.

She gestures for him to lean down closer and he follows so that she can whisper in his ear. “You are going to wear one of the ties I selected for you, since we are going to have some fun with them that evening.”

He turns his face towards hers so that their noses are almost touching; he swallows nervously, and his voice barely comes out. “Re-really?”

“Yes. Really.” There is so much emotion in her eyes and he feels himself drawn into them. His hands move to her ass to pull her closer to him. It is clear she’s thinking about the ties in that moment, but he can barely focus as her arms wrap around his neck and she kisses him deeply. Wilson’s hands immediately dig into her bum and christ, does he want to fuck her.

They begin to make out in the middle of her living room until the kitchen timer beeps reminding them to remove the lasagna for perfectly baked cheese on top. Wilson comes to an awkward stop, “Fuck, we need to take it out of the oven to cool.” Thankfully, she is the one who releases him and ruffles her hair before she puts on oven mitts and removes the dish and places it on a hot pad to cool before turning off the oven.

Wilson watches her as she walks up to him, “Now, where were we?” and she wraps her hands around his waist and pushes him back towards her bedroom. Yeah, we are definitely going to have sex more than those kids we saw last night at this rate he thinks smugly to himself.

The return to making out on her bed and he feels so impatient he’s not sure if he is really himself in bed with her. It looks like when he has an opportunity to have sex with her without removing the dress; brain becomes stuck on the idea. With some stealthy handiwork he’s able to remove her underwear while the rest of her is completely clothed. It is then he starts to say “I lo-” and her left index finger lands on his lips, “Sssshhhh.” And she kisses him. With a whisper, she tells him that she’ll explain things afterwards.

Wilson finds himself laying at an odd angle across her bed, mostly put together save for missing his pants while she is in the bathroom. She pokes her head in the bedroom with a serious expression, telling him the bathroom is his and she’ll now explain things. A somewhat nervous and anxious energy surrounds her, and he’s intrigued.

* * *

You are sitting on the toilet after the fourth time that you have had sex with Wilson in less than twenty-four hours. If there was ever a time to address your personal intimacy issues, this would be the ideal time to do so. Right before you had sex in the dress (which will have to go to the dry cleaners before the formal with all that sweat) he had started to say, ‘I love you.’ and you stopped him. This was for two reasons; first off you wouldn’t immediately respond back and he deserves to know why you are so guarded about these sorts of things. You have to address this now so that he doesn’t start to over contemplate things. Since you get the feeling that Wilson needs to understand other’s feelings and will begin to worry about his own if he doesn’t understand things.

After exiting the bathroom, you hang off of the door frame into the bedroom to find a pants-less Wilson on your bed and you tell him you will explain things. **_Things_**. God, you can be so exact in your statements and this is the ultimate concept when it comes to being vague.

You settle down onto the couch and Wilson soon comes to join you, his body language quiet but curious. He is a natural listener and it shows making you a little more comfortable. After taking a deep breath to steel your resolve, you start making it clear that you need to explain things and if he has any questions feel free to ask.

To start, you apologize to him about cutting him off when he started to speak. It wasn’t likely the right thing to do in the moment, and you did not intend to disregard his feelings or intent. He nods support and seems patient to learn why that is the case. It indicates to you to continue as he listens attentively to you.

It feels terrifying, yet you think it will be okay, and you continue to explain how you spend a lot of time thinking about your relationships; how they are and where they are going. You thank him for his openness and honesty towards you. Wilson is very comfortable with expressing his emotions when he feels that it is important; and you appreciate it, but you still feel uneasy about it. A part of you celebrates being told that you are loved, but another part of you is hesitant. What you don’t want to become is a person who when you are told that your significant other loves you, you automatically reply with ‘I love you too’ back to him without real intention. 

At this point your fingers twist into the blanket across your lap while you gaze off to the side at the floor. After saying such private and personal thoughts you can’t look at his eyes. Too many feelings risk bubbling to the surface and you are out of your depth.

The couch cushions shift as Wilson leans forward and his warm hands gently grasp yours fidgeting in the blanket. You turn to look at him and his eyes are so soft and full of warmth as he smiles. He keeps smiling as he holds your hands until they stop squirming and he can give them a good supportive squeeze. His voice is soft and gentle as he addresses you with a slight tilt of his head. “So, if I understand what you are saying – eeerrr, this is my attempt to summarize what you are saying.” He pauses and waits for you to nod before he continues.

“I’ll start from the end and work my way back; you don’t want to just tell me that you love me because I prompt you. That makes sense, you shouldn’t tell someone something just because you think they want to hear it. I think I know you well enough to realize you don’t make rash or hasty decisions.” Wilson squeezes your hands and he looks at you for a reply.

Feeling a little bit more normal, you are able to nod, and you tell him that he’s correct, adding in that you don’t want to say something when you don’t actually mean it.

Wilson sighs before he leans in to give you a hug. While his warmth surrounds you, he continues to speak. “I have never been concerned about your actions. I will admit, I was starting to wonder about this; I’ve never been involved with someone who has been as private as you are.” He releases you from the hug and keeps his hands on your shoulders so he can address you. “Was I worried about the fact you’ve never told me how you felt about me? Yes and no.”

He smiles at you and he returns to hold your hands in his. “I’ve felt very content with you and you’ve maybe forced me to slow down or think about things instead of just feeling them, like I’ve done in the past. That made me think ‘yes, she likes me’. Of course, I never have dated someone who hasn’t told me that she loves me in response to me saying it.”

His thumbs rub the back of your hands and you can literally feel the emotion from him. The ball is back in your court and you need to reassure him (and perhaps yourself?). Nervously, you release your left hand to adjust your hair and clear your throat.

Doing your best to smile and trying to make eye contact with his chocolate brown eyes that are overflowing with emotion; you continue. You tell him you do very much like him; he is completely different than any guy you have dated before, as he’s much more open with his emotions and in a way, you wish you were better with your own. But at the same time, it is a little intimidating and confusing for you since you don’t know what to do in response to him. You don’t want to mess this up, but you have a terrible track record with relationships.

He laughs lightly, “We make an interesting couple, don’t we?” Wilson playfully brings his right hand to his chin to look professorial. “I think who has a more ‘terrible’ track record would be up for debate.” He wiggles his eyebrows for emphasis, and you giggle a little as the heavy tension you had been feeling breaks.

He has a point, if you considered the three ex-wives and likely more girlfriends in the mix, Wilson would be ‘worse’ at you since he’s good at starting serious relationships but struggles to maintain them. You smile at him, “We do, don’t we? One person who has plenty of relationships to the other that rarely tries.” With a laugh you ruffle his hair, “Perhaps, we average out to a good relationship.”

Wilson laughs before he pulls you in for another hug. “You might be right. Just keep this in mind, I’ll keep telling you that I love you. So, you are going to have to build up a tolerance to it.” He sneaks a kiss in on the top of your head.

You snuggle into his chest feeling the pleasant texture of his sweater on your cheek. “Okay.” And you hug him tighter. “But don’t expect an outpouring of emotions from me – ever.” He laughs as his hands rub your back.

The two of you sit on the couch and embrace each other for a few more minutes until the smell of the lasagna tickles your nose and reminds you that it would make a good late lunch. Breaking away from him, you use the bathroom and wash your face quickly; you didn’t cry but your eyes are a bit puffy from holding your emotions steady. Wilson seemed to read your mind and you find him in the kitchen plating out the lasagna.

It turned out well and he wants you to notice how the boiled noodles gives it that extra texture; you honestly can’t tell a difference, but you nod in agreement. Next time you make it, you’ll use the no-boil noodles and see if he can tell. Bwhahahahaha you think to yourself.

Wanting to not ‘waste’ the late afternoon, you start a load of laundry and tidy things up while Wilson falls asleep on the couch with Keith on him. Those two are natural napping buddies and it looks adorable. Silently, you carefully examine his face as steady breaths rise and fall from his chest. He looks slightly different than when you first saw his sleeping face, the pain and hurt that lingered around him is much harder to see; instead his more innocent boyish features are more obvious.

Unable to resist, you move a curl of hair that has fallen across his face to the side and he stirs opening his eyes to see you gazing down at him. “Did I fall asleep on the couch again?” his head lifts up just enough to see Keith fast asleep on his chest. Wilson’s eyes look at yours and he laughs to himself, “Well I think I have my answer.”

You reach out and ruffle his already messy hair, “I’ll make a pot of coffee. I can’t have you falling asleep before we go skating.”

The coffee isn’t just for him, you are feeling tired after sharing your feelings and it will give you the boost you need to get out again. Just before seven, you head out to the local rink for the open skate. Your coats and outwear are shoved in a locker with your regular shoes before lacing up your skates. It feels odd to wear them after so many years of being unable to skate. Wilson has rented a pair; he thinks his skates are back at his parents’ place. Timidly, you make your way onto the ice. It isn’t that you’ve forgotten, but it will take a few laps to regain your footing. Christmas music blasts over the sound system and it isn’t too crowded, and you listen to the sound of blades on the freshly Zamboni smoothed ice. Wilson hangs back, he looks a little rusty but has no problem gliding ahead of you. 

As your muscle memory returns you begin to pick up the pace and catch up to Wilson who has a look of focus, his brow furrowed as he moves forward. “Hey there.” You catch his attention as you even yourself with him. He’s beaming, “Oh, I see you are feeling more comfortable.” You smile, “I am.” before you skate a head of him. With ample distance between the two of you, you pivot on the ball of your feet to turn around. Looking back towards him, you skate backwards, occasionally glancing behind you to not collide into an innocent bystander.

He grins as he catches up to you and there is about an arm’s length between both of you. “Showing off I see.” You shrug innocently, “Maybe.” before turning forward and skating next to him. Wilson smirks at you and both of you glide around, barely noticing the increasing number of teens dropped off by their parents. 

As the first hour comes to an end, the ice is cleared so that the Zamboni can smooth out the scratched surface. Space is at a premium and unable to find a spot to rest for two, Wilson leads you to a corner of a bench. He sits down and pats his lap. “Come on.” With a slight amount of hesitation, you glance around before slowly coming to rest on his lap. His hands wrap around your waist and he’s able to whisper in your ear. “I’m not sure how much longer I can skate for. Definitely not the entire hour.” A small herd of middle schoolers glomps by in skates, wobbling and laughing. You turn your head just enough to look at him. “I agree with that, how about another half hour?” His left hand has moved to your thigh and taps it, “I think I can do that.”

When the ice is open, a throng of teenagers spills out onto the ice, giggling and screaming as many are unsteady as they move along to the mix of seasonally appropriate music. You and Wilson slowly step down onto the rink and he offers his hand to you as you step out and glide into the large oval of human motion. He keeps holding your hand as the two of you skate along. Whenever you glance to your side, he’s smiling as both of you move through the chaotically energetic teenagers. 

Just as you begin to tire, he smirks as he pivots so he’s skating backwards, and he reaches out to hold your hands. You blush and the piercing whistle from a rink guard cuts through the moment, “No skating backwards!” the rink guard yells firmly towards the two of you.

Wilson smiles and let’s go of your hands to wave back at the young man (twenties at oldest) and he turns returning to a forward direction of movement. “Sorry!” he yells back and with a tilt of his head towards the exit, the two of you skate towards the small open spot and the lobby and locker area. Walking over the rubber floor mats, you retrieve all of your items from the locker and unlace your skates. It feels funny to wear regular shoes and you wait for Wilson to return his skates before you put on your winter coats and head out. 

The rink is now overwhelmed with teens and Wilson seems to be desiring a location with less raging hormones. Back in the car, he asks if you’d be alright with getting a drink, there are a few bars walking distance from your place. It sounds like a good idea and there is a small pub tucked away on a side street. It has that generic look, dim lighting, wood paneling, and stained glass that is illuminated with soft backlighting. You order a fancy cocktail with apple brandy and maple syrup and cinnamon, while Wilson sticks with a spiced bourbon cocktail. The bar is quiet, instrumental music plays softly in the background and everyone is engrossed in hushed conversations. It is the complete opposite the busy ice rink and soothing with the calm surrounding you.

After finishing your drinks and both a bit buzzed you walk back to your apartment and Wilson walks with his left arm wrapped around you. Entering just before ten, Keith mews for his nightly rituals and you laugh as Wilson leaves you to take care of him. The flush of the toilet and water running in the sink proceeds him as he hums before he wraps you in a hug. “Hey.” His eyes look down at you and his fingers slide down to your bum, “Want to meet me in the bedroom?” 

It is going to be one of ‘those’ weekends you think to yourself. You smile and laugh. “I can do that, but I need to use the bathroom first.” He lets you go and walks straight into your bedroom. When finished in the bathroom, you look at your reflection in the mirror. It is definitely going to be an intense weekend; it isn’t even Sunday yet!

When you enter the bedroom, he’s lying on his back, arms behind his head as he stares up at the ceiling. You crawl on top of him and lean down to kiss him. The taste of the spicy drink lingers on him and you smell the sweat from skating on him. Wilson’s hands roam your back and the two of you begin the slow movements of warm and alcohol tinged foreplay.

Naked and sleepy afterwards, he rolls off of the bed to shower and put on the kettle. Wilson is quite clear you should hydrate before going to sleep. The shower hits the spot, you are starting to feel a little sore from the skating and [ahem] other physical activities of the weekend. Yawning as you enter the kitchen warm and relaxed after showering, Wilson hands you a cup of chamomile tea, his own eyes half open. 

Thankfully, both of you fall into bed and fast asleep. You are only partially aware of Keith as he squeezes in between the two of you.

Sunday morning, you awake to the mews of Keith wanting breakfast. As you return to bed you feel slightly tired but much less exhausted than you expected. Wilson rolls to wrap himself around you as he sighs into your back. “Mornin’, how are you feeling today?” he pulls back so that you can turn to look at him.

You reply you are a little tired, and a touch sore from skating but okay. The room is still dark as the pre-dawn light barely glows around the edge of your curtains. Wilson smiles, “I should have rephrased that. How are you feeling in regard to physical activates other than skating?” You snuggle in closer so that your noses are almost touching, “You really are incorrigible. I’m feeling sore from all of the sex, but I’m sure I can help out with your morning.” You wink confidently and slide down to his waist. He instinctively rolls onto his back and you look up him licking your lips in preparation for what you are about to do. 

As the room becomes brighter, his hands tangle into your hair and he moans in pleasure, your hands gripping onto his bare hips. With impeccable timing you are able to finish him off with a hand and he goes limp below you.

You excuse yourself to get a damp washcloth for him and his reply is unintelligible. Wilson accepts it from you with a thank you and goes about cleaning himself up as well as possible. He tosses the dirty cloth into the hamper before gesturing to you to join him for a cuddle. He kisses the top of your head, “You didn’t need to do that,” his eyes are full of thankfulness, “but I really appreciate it.” You smile and rest your left ear on his heart. “It wasn’t a big deal. I think you have a higher libido than I do, and I need a little time to recover.” His hands lazily scratch your back. “Well thank you for telling me. I would never want to make you uncomfortable.”

You smile into his chest before looking at him, and you know there is a blush across your face, and you reply that you really appreciate his consideration. The rumble of his stomach catches both of your attention and you finally get up to make some oatmeal and coffee. Wilson showers to clean up any remaining evidence of his recent bodily functions and he takes over with breakfast prep so you can shower. 

While eating, you ask him what his plans are for the day. He needs to start making some lunches for the next week of work. With a glance to the floor and ruffle of his hair he states he will go back home to his parents’ place next weekend to celebrate the end of Hannukah. He’ll drive up Saturday morning (even though they are less than two hours away) spend the evening and drive back to Princeton Sunday evening.

You let him know that is fine, since he was here for Thanksgiving, you are sure his family is looking forward to seeing him. He looks a little guilty about leaving you alone and you remind him you are going to be gone around Christmas, so it is fine. Family is important even if you don’t see them all the time.

Wilson smiles with a gentle nod. “Thanks. And after yesterday’s conversation, I’m pretty sure you are okay with the fact that I’m not inviting you to come along.” He takes a sip of coffee and you smile back.

“Yes. I appreciate that. Meeting a significant other’s family is a huge deal. I’m sure you’ll know when a good time will be.” You are so glad he’s not putting any pressure on you and if you meet them, it won’t be until the new year.

While washing the dishes, you think about how there is no way you will finish the dish of lasagna in your fridge quickly enough. As you hand off a washed bowl to Wilson to towel dry (he really doesn’t use the dish rack unless necessary) you inquire if he’d like some of the leftovers. He is immediately excited by the suggestion. Furthermore, he invites you to join him this afternoon to prep more lunches if you’d want to mix it up. 

It sounds like a good idea and before heading to his place, you check the tire with low pressure. It seems to be holding steady for the time being, but Wilson insists you keep the pump with you just in case.

Upon entering his condo, you notice a pair of tennis shoes in the entryway and the sound of blues plays over his stereo. “House? Finish the case?” Wilson yells into his abode while both of you remove your coats and shoes.

The sound of a metal bowl falling and rolling across the floor causes you and Wilson to look at each other in surprise, “Yes! Now come help me with meal prep!” House’s voice booms through the hallway and the two of you find him in the kitchen with many bowls and ingredients spread out. He’s even wearing an apron, and a feminine one at that. House’s eyes dart to you, “Oh.” before looking at Wilson and then down for a split second, “I didn’t expect you to bring your girlfriend.”

Wilson cocks his head, “Well, we were thinking of doing some meal prep. I don’t see why all three of us can’t contribute.” You nod and the hold up some of the extra lasagna in reusable shopping bag, “There’s some lasagna in it for you if you want.”

House’s face goes through a flurry of minuscule calculations before he reaches out to grab the bag. “Deal. Though keep in mind that I’m in charge here. Got it.” His threat seems more bark than bite but based on how amazing his meringue cookies tasted you raise your hands in a non-threatening posture. “Sounds good.”

The afternoon then becomes a carefully orchestrated assembly line of various dishes for the next week, all under the careful guidance of House. He occasionally points out when you are doing something wrong, but mainly focuses on giving Wilson a hard time. Yet, Wilson is not annoyed by House’s overbearing attitude and either rolls his eyes or has a snarky retort that not everyone had ‘time’ to perfect their culinary skills . . . House just laughs in reply and by the late afternoon the three of you have made; two salads one with quinoa and another with chickpeas and lentils; vegetarian pot pie; a carrot and ginger soup; and a baked South African dish bobotie of seasoned ground meat and spiced rice.

The three of you sample a little of each for supper and you are impressed with House’s skills. “Thanks for organizing things. I’d be up for doing this once a month.” House smiles and looks at the floor while rubbing the back of his head. “Well, I’m only doing this to make sure I get my allotted Wilson time.”

Wilson sighs which his hands on his hips followed by an exaggerated eye roll. “Oh, come on, you only see me at work every day.” The corners of his lips betray him, the dimples show that he’s not at all upset at his best friend. “Well, I need to ‘abandon’ both of you to head home next weekend, I’ll make sure to attend Poker Night and we can do trashy TV on Friday, okay?” Wilson’s words have an effect on House, though again it is completely subtle.

“Yeah, yeah. Even if Cuddy brings me a case this week, I’ll avoid it. You wouldn’t believe how annoying this one was . . .” you zone out as House gets into the medical details and the three of you load the dish washer and clean up any additional items. 

House had brought his own containers and you divide things up while he and Wilson keep talking about the case. Wilson seems interested, gasping or asking for clarification as House explains things in great depth. Finally, all talked out (you wonder if that is possible for House) he sighs and limps over to put on his shoes and winter coat. 

Wilson excuses himself to start a load of laundry and House grunts at you. “Help me take my stuff out to the car. A gimpy leg makes it hard to carry things with two hands.” You nod, curious why he’s asking you and not Wilson.

With a hamper full of carefully sorted items, Wilson returns to the kitchen and loads his washing machine. “You on your way out? Let me help you.” his statement is almost a declaration of fact.

“I’m okay, she’s gonna help me.” House nods in your direction and Wilson looks perplexed for a moment. “Oh, okay. Well, I will see you tomorrow at work then.” He’s just standing next to the open washer, dirty underwear in his hands.

“Yep. Night Wilson.” House then grunts and with a motion of his cane towards the door the two of you make your way to the foyer. “Night House.” Wilson’s reply floats down the hallway.

Carrying two bags full of meals, House opens the door and moves out of the way so that you can exit. You walk alongside him, and his pace is quite fast for someone leaning into a cane. At the elevator he presses the down button with his cane and gestures for you to enter he elevator when it dings, the doors sliding open.

House clears his throat, “So, Wilson hasn’t attempted to move in with you yet?” he looks forward, his eyes only moving to look at you from the corner of his eyes.

“Nope.” Your reply is simple, you aren’t sure where this is going, but it is best not to give any additional information to him. 

“Interesting.” The elevator reaches the garage and he presses the door open button with his cane as you exit before him and he follows swiftly behind. In the guest spot next to Wilson’s Volvo there is an old Plymouth in a dark shade of blue last found on cars in the late 80s. You didn’t pay any attention to it when Wilson parked a few hours ago, but it would explain why there wasn’t a lot of surprise in Wilson’s voice when he asked if House was there.

House leans down to open the trunk with his key and you place the bags down. His bright blue eyes directly stare at you causing you to pause; he’s been waiting for this chance to get you alone. “Wilson hasn’t been in a relationship for a while. If you do anything to hurt him. . . .” House thumps his cane instead of completing the sentence.

You nod. “Message received.” House’s posture then returns to a more relaxed lean and he turns to enter his vehicle. He nods, “Make sure Wilson doesn’t insist on wearing a tux for the winter formal. I hate looking like a penguin.” The door then abruptly shuts, and you stand back from the car and he turns on the ignition. 

You walk off to the side and wave at him as he pulls out of the parking space. He looks at you one last time before shifting the car into drive and he nods. Watching the taillights as he drives to the exit, you lean back into Wilson’s parked car sighing as the tension lingers like the exhaust from his car which likely isn’t meeting emissions standards. . .

It certainly has been an emotionally intense weekend. You shove your hands into your pants pockets and stroll back to the elevator and back to the condo. “House on his way home?” Wilson’s voice greets you from the kitchen as he puts on the kettle.

“Yep. I just realized why you weren’t surprised that he was there, his car was parked next to yours.” You settle on one of the stools and watch him as he pulls down mugs for tea. “Yeah, I guess I didn’t think to tell you since I wasn’t sure if he was going to pull another prank or if he was just there expecting me to show up to do my Sunday afternoon chores.” He smiles and ruffles his hair and looks at you from under his bushy eyebrows, “It really worked out quite well.” You can only smile back – he’s correct. Based on your brief ‘conversation’ with House, he’s determined you aren’t going anywhere soon and if anything, he expressed his concern for him as his best friend.

Wilson winks at you, “I was wondering if you’d like to spend the night? You only need to head back to feed and brush Keith.” You smile, it would only be fair to him, plus he spent so much time at your place on Friday evening and Saturday. In agreement, he drives you to your place and you take care of Keith and pack your bag for work and grab some clothing for tomorrow.

The evening ends with both of you watching a classic movie on his couch, but Wilson seems more interested in other things. And yes, after having sex for the last time of the weekend, you settle into his bedsheets and pull the duvet up over yourself after a shower. Wilson sets his alarm and after turning the light off he curls around you. “Thank you.” he whispers his into your ear before continuing, “Good night. Love you.” You smile into the darkness, “Night.” With that, the two of you settle down to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah, yes ending a chapter with fluff. I hope you enjoyed this chapter of character development! Our reader realized she needs to communicate in her relationship and Wilson is finding that when he slows down and thinks, his relationship works better.
> 
> House also has to act more 'normal' now that Wilson's girlfriend isn't a fling or an impulsive relationship. He would be concerned that his best friend doesn't get hurt again. Of course he'd deny caring this much about Wilson to his face.
> 
> I miss skating! This is the first place that I've ever lived without a local rink and it just doesn't seem the same without being able to lace up some skates and go.


	25. Wilson goes home for (part of) Hanukkah

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A Wilson-centric chapter as he heads home to visit his family for Hanukkah for the first time in years. House's rehab and therapy are beginning to bear fruit and Wilson feels good about his best friend's positive changes. He finally takes his girlfriend out to dinner at the well known French Bistro and she is pleasantly surprised, breaking her hipster opinions.
> 
> Warning, this is a long chapter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For this chapter to work, and Wilson to head home, I took on the task of filling in all of the blanks surrounding his family. In the show the only brother with a name is Danny as his older brother and parents are nameless, but alluded to be alive (I'm not going to dig for any more anecdotal evidence from the show). This makes sense to me, his youthful appearance and healthy habits had to come from somewhere. So yes, I'm off canon but it serves my story best this way.
> 
> His entire personality screams that he is a product of an upper middle class household, well educated parents, and spent years cultivating his golden boy/dutiful son image. Clearly, by the time the TV show starts, his good son/husband image is not reality, but his attitude towards the women in his life had to come from somewhere. Furthermore, even as his philosophical arguments continue over the years with House, he has a stronger moral compass to try to do better even if he breaks the rules along the way.

As like most Mondays, Wilson’s alarm goes off at six-thirty and he shuffles into his bathroom to urinate and shower. Though unlike most Mondays his girlfriend stayed overnight at the condo and he feels happy. He’d wish she could stay over more frequently, but with he’d feel guilty about stressing Keith (and her) out. By time he emerges from his shower, mainly dressed save for a tie loose around his neck, she is completely ready and pouring a cup of coffee while eating a bowl of cold cereal.

“Morning.” She looks at him over a steaming cup of coffee. Walking over to her, he leans down and kisses her on the cheek, “Morning. What’s the forecast today?”

“Chance of flurries later in the day, high of 35, low of 28.” Her reply is fast and helpful. Wilson ties his green silk tie of seduction into a half-windsor before turning back to grab a black sweater vest. He runs his fingers through his perfectly styled hair as he adjusts the tie under the sweater.

“Ah! The sweater vest strikes again!” her voice is overly animated, and he laughs at her sarcastic comment while pouring himself a cup of coffee before putting some whole wheat bread in the toaster. 

“Oh, come on. You know you love it.” He winks across the kitchen island at her and she turns away. She quickly finishes her breakfast and scurries off to brush her teeth a blur of a swooshy plaid skirt in blue and red with a blue sweater. 

Wilson sits down to eat his peanut butter toast and watches her as she grabs her portions of the food they made yesterday with House. In a quick motion, she leans in to kiss him on the lips before she turns to head out the door. “I’ve gotta go feed Keith and head to work. Call or text me about Thursday, okay?”

With a mouthful of peanut butter, he uses some coffee to wash it down before he yells back that he will. The door to the condo shuts and he goes about the rest of his morning routine. Officially now December, he sighs in relief that the mountain of paperwork has been dealt with and he only has his normal responsibilities to deal with. House flies into his office when lunch approaches and they reheat their leftovers together while discussing current hockey statistics.

Soft and delicate snow flurries dance around his car as he drives home and does another two loads of laundry while enjoying more of their lovely leftovers. His girlfriend is right, the three of them need to do this once a month!

Tuesday is colder with more snow, but again, the commute is fine and he and House play hooky in the afternoon, well it isn’t really hooky since a scheduling glitch gave them an open spot in their schedules. House also sent him a draft for his funding proposal and Wilson gladly reviews it for him. As he reads it, adding comments here and there in track changes, it becomes so obvious that House is a diagnostician with talents that far exceed most. His only major comment is that House should have a small paragraph about where previous fellows are in their own careers. He’s thinking of Cameron, Chase and Foreman obviously, but it doesn’t help to show to the reader that House has trained good fellows. 

House later swings into his office ready for lunch and tells Wilson it was a good idea. Turns out some of his older fellows have gone on to be quite successful even though House thought they were losers and turds. Wilson rolls his eyes, but is pleasantly surprised that even the fellows that House didn’t connect with or care for like ‘the three’ did well for themselves. And many of those fellows were pre-Vicodin House, when he was **_slightly_** less of an ass. Changing topics, he asks House for any suggestions for a low-key dinner on Thursday; House suggests the local French Bistro.

Wilson nods, it is true, he hasn’t taken his girlfriend to the local Bistro which has been here longer any of them have worked at Princeton-Plainsboro. It is a good suggestion from House. They spend the rest of the lunch trying to guess who is doing the office secret Santa and who ignored the sign-up sheet.

By Wednesday morning, Wilson is feeling good at how smoothly the week has been going. Only a few bad cancer consults, and many of his patients are responding quite well to their various treatments. Thirteen swings by his office to ask him a few questions about palliative care from his perspective as an oncologist and he replies honestly. Though there is a sense of hopelessness that swirls around her questions and she takes very detailed notes. He can’t put his finger on it, but it tugs at him, laying down a small concern for why she cares this much.

House is in a lunch meeting with Cuddy to discuss his proposal, so Wilson has the freedom to have an uninterrupted lunch. He strolls down to the cafeteria and is able to get a half serving of fries to eat along with his much healthier soup and salad. With a few quick taps to his phone, he’s able to message his girlfriend about their dinner plans tomorrow and he’s excited to see her. She quickly replies she’s glad and has another community art class tonight.

He smiles as he tells her to have fun and to wish him luck at poker tonight. The entire gang is assembled in House’s living room around the table when he arrives (this time he wasn’t even close to being late) and he notices the other guys seem more open and relaxed. Could it be since House is calling them by name, they may be enjoying themselves more? Chase tells a few stories about patients he’d seen in the Clinic recently, most with strange misconceptions how things worked and a few that made everyone shudder due to the sheer concern of their actions.

Wilson and Chase stick around to help with clean-up. He’s pleasantly surprised that Chase is spending more time with House and both of them seem comfortable with it. House lingers in the kitchen after Chase heads home and Wilson goes in to check on him. “Everything okay? I already loaded the dishwasher if you are wondering where all the dirty items went.”

House instead leans against his kitchen counter, “Well, in this household only you are responsible for **_properly_** loading the dishwasher.” Wilson rolls his eyes and leans into the counter across from him wondering where this hesitation in House is coming from. He crosses his arms for good measure.

It sends the message to House to fess up. “I realized something while we were playing poker.” He has his sheepish look where he sort of bows his head towards Wilson, and looks at him up from his eyes before continuing. “Things are okay.” House fidgets before he looks directly at him, “What I mean, is I am okay. Sure, my leg is still fucked and there is still a dull and constant pain.” House then instinctively rubs at his thigh.

“But it just doesn’t bother me anymore like it used to.”

Wilson gasps just slightly as he sighs in relief. Swallowing to wet his dry mouth, he looks at his best friend, “Are you saying, your rehab and therapy are working?” Wilson feels nervous to even say this out loud, “You are okay?”

House looks at the floor for a moment, “Yeah. For the first time in years, I feel like I’m not stuck.” He sways back and forth before continuing, “I’m also going to go home for Christmas. Well, technically not Christmas; I’m heading down to Virginia on the 27th to visit my Mom.” The rest of that statement hits Wilson right in the feels. He is shocked that House is willing to visit his mother, but then again, he never sensed that he had the same issues with her as with his abusive and controlling non-biological father. What makes him feel happy is that House is sticking around for Wilson; he knows that Wilson will cover off shifts for other doctors to spend the holiday with their families and because he ‘needs to be needed’. At the same time House will playfully mock him while he works alongside Wilson at PPTH on the 25th.

Wilson can’t help but softly smile and he watches how House’s eyes brighten up as he looks at him. “Well, you will have to tell your mother that I say hello. And of course, we will need to get Chinese take-out for the 25th after we are off call!”

“Alright, already. You are burying me in your beaming niceness.” House begins to move to his bathroom while Wilson puts on his coat and opens the door. “Night House, I’ll see you at work tomorrow.”

“Night Wilson!” and with that, he shuts the door behind him and walks out to his car. It is a brisk night, fresh snow crunching under his shoes and a light coating covers his car. He hums to himself as he dusts it off while the heater and defroster warm up the interior and windows.

* * *

Your week goes quickly as your team works to pick up the slack from others. It isn’t ideal in your opinion, but you hope it translates to a good evaluation and a raise and or promotion potential.

A lunchtime text from Wilson on Wednesday updates you on dinner plans the following evening. He settled on the local French Bistro, which people have occasionally mentioned in passing. It sounds like a fine suggestion and you also have your art class later that day. Adorably, he tells you to have fun and asks for you to ‘wish him luck’ at poker. Though as far as you can tell these poker games are less financial high stakes and more about personal banter and boasting.

Before the art class, you eat more leftovers from the great House organized cook-a-thon and feel like it really is a good idea! You said that there should be more in the future and you really think that may become a reality – as long as you can convince the fickle House to do it . . . perhaps, with the bait of what he seems to refer to as ‘Wilson time’.

This week’s art class focuses on a traditional still life. Not anything exciting, but it keeps your hands busy and you get to chat with more people around the predictable set up of a flower arrangement, fruit and dishes all arranged over a draped cloth. Your effort is okay, but you keep reminding yourself that isn’t the point, it is to meet people who might be cool to hang out with in the future. With that goal in mind you do your best to get a feel for others and keep coming until you feel comfortable.

There is a light dusting of snow on your car in the community center lot. You smile as you brush it off, feeling at this moment in time how much you missed such a simple seasonal act. Though, you think that by February, you might be over the nostalgic feeling of cleaning off your car. The streetlights illuminate the snow and you enjoy the silent hush that accompanies it.

Yawning as you enter your place, Keith rubs against your legs for your attention and you put your small pencil artwork down. He sniffs it before marking it ‘approved’ and mews for his brushing. As you shower and prepare for bed you think about what to wear tomorrow. The Bistro is neither close to you nor Wilson, so he proposed meeting there after work. It is in a rather banal shopping plaza, the rent must be cheap there you think, since the location between a grocery store, tanning salon, hair stylist and psychic. It seems anything but classy. Online reviews put it in the medium price range and a ‘casual & relaxed atmosphere’ which you read to be the dreadful zone of business casual a horrendous grey area of fashion.

As your conditioner sits in your hair, you exfoliate and think it might be better to err on the side of caution and go with dressier. You’ll just wear one of your more basic dresses and winter tights. Sadly, you don’t have to worry about getting it dirty at work since you are still trapped in the office.

Thursday morning starts out with light snowfall, snarling traffic and slowing down everyone’s commutes. It was the first time in years that you have to remember how-to drive-in winter weather conditions and it made you just a little nervous. Living in the desert made you lazy in the winter, ninety-nine percent of the time the weather was dry, and you can count the number of times it snowed on a single hand. Which were actually terrifying as you watched the locals fishtail and slide on the snowy roads in those rare instances. However, you arrive safely and settle into another fine day spent staring at a screen. At least you have your own music to listen to!

Before shoving off for the day, you double check the easiest way to reach the banal plaza with the Bistro. Snow has built up on your parked car, but the sidewalks and parking lots are completely clear. It seems corporate ‘evil’ invests in good grounds keepers and small snowplows, the sidewalk is lightly salted, and the lots have neat plies of snow at one end. Once you’ve cleaned and defrosted, it is off to dinner! The streets are clear, and it appears that NJDOT has done a decent job for today. You won’t form an opinion until you see their full winter’s worth of support having lived enough places with quite variable snow removal prowess. State College, Pennsylvania, at the time quite excellent – Lafayette-West Lafayette, Indiana, left much to be desired . . .

You sigh at the lameness of the shopping plaza on arrival; you shouldn’t really judge it, but you do have a bit of an aesthetic when it comes to eating out. This place is the complete opposite of that. Taking a deep breath, you open the door to the small foyer to see a few chairs and a bench to wait. Wilson is seated at a chair reading over a paper twirling a pen with his left hand. He oddly doesn’t notice you enter, whatever he’s reading has got his attention.

Walking up to him, you nudge the toe of your oxfords to his, “Hey there.” And he looks up mildly surprised. “Oh! I didn’t realize you got here! I guess I was engrossed in my edits for House.” He smiles sweetly and you sit down next to him.

“You were very into that indeed.” With a light touch you put your right hand on his left knee and smile, letting him know it was no big deal. 

He reaches for his briefcase and puts it away before turning back to you to kiss you on the cheek. “I already talked to the host, he said it would be about fifteen minutes.” Wilson then nudges you with his shoulder. “What do you think of this place?”

Not wanting to start off negatively you look around before saying anything. The small foyer has very high dividers behind the few chairs making it difficult to see further into the place. There is a small bar straight ahead and the lighting is brighter than you anticipated; the best way to describe it is that you’d see yourself meeting friends here for lunch but not a romantic dinner for two. Jazz/lounge music plays softly, and you are thankful it isn’t trying to do ‘over the top’ French sounding music with an accordion. Minimal Christmas decorations are up and there is the light din of conversations and the sound of cutlery in the background. Honestly, you have no idea, so you reply that you aren’t sure.

Wilson replies that this place appears a bit unusual, but the food is delicious, and he’s been here many times; plus, House considers it an excellent example of simple French cuisine. A few people exit and you hope this means your table will be ready soon as you feel the pangs of hunger rumble.

The host politely informs you that the table is ready, and he leads you back into the main part of the bistro. Everything is very light and open, with soft wooden chairs and tables and a light-yellow paint along the walls. Vintage posters for the Tour de France hang over the bar while the rest of the walls are decorated with white wood trim. Surprisingly, the place lacks tacky décor with vintage wine and absinthe posters, and you seem a little more hopeful. The two of you are seated at a table for two against the wall and you are informed your server will be with you soon. Finally, able to remove your coats, Wilson takes yours to hang it up on a small rack near the rear of the place. He’s wearing his basic medium grey suit with an off-white shirt with yellow and blue stripes and a matching yellow and blue tie. As he returns to the table he smiles as he looks at your dress, you chose the black A-line with the fitted top and the black and white front panel. 

“Nice dress. Looks very warm.” Wilson winks as you smile and thank him. You reply that he looks good, sporting what appears to be his favorite type of tie; a striped one. He blushes slightly and your server greets you. She’s wearing all black with a dark blue apron, her dark hair pulled back in a tight bun. And she has the most Jersey accent you have ever encountered throwing you off for a moment.

What is most interesting is that as she explains the specials of the day, her accent shifts between Jersey and excellent French pronunciation as far as you can tell (you never took French, but it is better than yours). The most striking thing from the menu is that nothing is highbrow or fancy, it is all just basic comfort food and you think you may like this place a little more. The menus are short and simple, just what you like. Wilson asks her for the wine selection and apologizes that he’s going to pick for the both of you since they do not do sell it by the glass, after a furrowed brow and some wiggles of his bushy brows he settles on a small carafe of their Cabernet Sauvignon. Your server nods and replies she will be back to take your order shortly.

With a ruffle of his hair with his right hand, Wilson shyly looks at you, “I hope that is okay with you. It’s just I’m being a little selfish since I already know what I will order, and this goes well with it.” The look on his facial expression is priceless.

You laugh, “That’s fine. If there was something I really didn’t like, I’d let you know. So, what are you going to get?”

Wilson smiles contentedly, “I am going to get their steak frites. One can never go wrong with well-cooked fries and steak.” This is a man who knows what he likes and is going to have it! You look over the menu trying to decide what strikes your fancy, and there is a dish that includes; ratatouille, lobster bisque, and fresh bread. It sounds excellent. Just for verification, you ask Wilson what he thinks of that option and he laughs since House likes to order than in the winter when they’ve eaten here. You apparently have aligned with House’s taste in simple French cuisine.

Your super Jersey server returns with a small glass carafe full of wine (apparently 2.5 glasses according to Wilson) and your orders are submitted to the kitchen. The place is full on a Thursday night, but it doesn’t seem crowded and the clientele are quite varied, a few families are there with teenagers, couples and small groups of three to four friends.

While the two of you sip your wine, you are able to ask Wilson about the document he was editing earlier. He replies excitedly that it is a grant proposal that House is writing to expand his department and the fellowship program. Wilson’s interest in this is quite high and he goes on at great length about where they are submitting it to, how it will improve Princeton-Plainsboro and how it is a huge step forward for House. It is so obvious that Wilson is throwing is all into supporting House since this is important to House and clearly important to Wilson that House is doing this.

The food arrives, steaming hot (well not your bread, that would be weird) and basic instincts take over as a few minutes of silence fall between you. The bread is amazing, and it is even more amazing when you dip it in the bisque. The ratatouille is bright and colorful; many fall and winter vegetables fill it with a subtle but comforting flavor instead of the typical summer crops of tomatoes and zucchini. You appreciate the use of in season vegetables. Wilson is happily eating his steak frites offers his fries to you, but he laughs that he’s not sure he could part with the steak.

You grab a few fries and they are almost perfect, crispy on the outside and creamy potato goodness on the inside. Wilson’s love for the dish is blinding. The bisque isn’t very easy to share, so you offer a slice of bread, which he accepts and enjoys, but not quite as much as those frites!

By the end of your supper, you are sold on this unusually located French Bistro. As the server clears your plates, she informs you of the dessert menu and you are already interested at the mention of dessert. Though it really is a no brainer when you inform her that ‘we’ will be having the crème brulee and Wilson laughs lightly in approval.

A short time later the crème brulee exits the kitchen and lands on the table before you with two spoons. The crispy sweet top breaks as your spoons extract the dessert and both of you sigh upon that first bit. It perfectly ends the meal and you smile at Wilson who has entered a sort of dopey food coma, grinning back at you.

As per his usual polite and gentlemanly habits, he hands over his card for the server to run while you head to the bathroom. On the way back you swing by the coat rack and return to the table full of wool among other fabrics.

He excuses himself to the bathroom and with that both of you soon depart warm and full; from eating such a simple meal. In the small foyer you put on your hat and gloves before opening the door to be met with a blast of cold, dry air. Just outside he leans in for a hug and kiss, “I’ll see you back at your place.” You give him a squeeze back while replying with a basic “Okay.”

Once back home, you feed an annoyed and very hungry Keith and Wilson buzzes for you to let him in. A quick rap on the door announces his arrival and you yell back that it is unlocked, and he enters with all of his necessary items for tomorrow.

The two of you settle in on the couch, feeling happy from the excellent but basic dinner and chit chat about nothing in particular. He reminds you that tomorrow is trashy TV and take-out night with House, so he won’t be able to come to your place until after ten. With a tender pat on the knee you tell him it is okay. He smiles and thanks you, he’ll need to head out by noon on Saturday since he’s heading to his parents’ place and will need to pick up a few things from the condo before driving to visit them in suburban Jersey.

You notice how he’s remarkably quiet about his family; he only mentioned in passing that his brother struggled with mental health issues and it appears both of his parents are still alive. This doesn’t seem too shocking; if he looks as young as he does, it is likely there are genetics that are driving that phenotype. Which you ponder is a very long-winded way to say his parents likely look younger than they are. Just around nine, Keith mews to be brushed and when you are done tending to his needs, Wilson is out cold on the couch. Yep, this man is a party animal. And you then yawn feeling yourself content and sleepy from dinner. It appears that dinner may very well have been a prelude to an early bedtime.

Poking Wilson a few times, he mumbles an incomplete statement of, “. . . . no Mom. I said I wanted to take dance lessons not . . .” and he then wakes up blinking at you.

“Hey there sleepy head.” He looks confused for a moment and then replies with a soft, “Hey. I feel asleep on the couch again, didn’t I?” and you ruffle his hair in reply and a mischievous grin grows across his face. “Oh ho ho! You don’t get to ruffle my hair without consequences!” and he bolts up to chase you into the bedroom.

He fights back by messing up your hair and he tries to tickle you on your bed. The playful wrestling slowly digresses into a make out session and it is quite clear where things will end. Things are slow, soft and gentle, likely due to the fact that both of you are sleepy from dinner and it being the end of a workweek that wasn’t overwhelming but still full.

After showering and heading to bed, Wilson curls up next to you in bed. He asks you what you thought of dinner and the two of you talk about food into the cool darkness of your bedroom. As time passes you slowly run out of words to say and fall into a warm sleep feeling content. Wilson’s breath is steady next to your and Keith’s warmth presses into your legs. It was a good evening indeed.

* * *

Wilson wakes up first and feeds Keith, hops into the shower, all with ample time to put the kettle on, steep the coffee and make oatmeal on the stove. He knows today is going to be a long day and wants to have the stamina to make it back to his girlfriend’s with hopefully enough energy for extra-curricular activities.

They depart her place at the same time, exchanging a chaste kiss on the lips before heading to their respective parked cars. His day then proceeds to drag. There aren’t very many meetings and the Clinic is oddly slow this afternoon. Wilson finds himself waiting for something to do, his anxiety slowly rising not quite sure why.

When five rolls around, he sighs in relief and heads to his office to collect his things and head home. A quick stop at House’s office confirms that he has no case and he’ll pick up the take-out from Bombay. As promised, Wilson queues up ‘Jaws’ and pulls out a few beers for them to share. The banter between him and House is minimal and as the movie ends, he finally tells House that he’s heading home tomorrow afternoon.

House limps over to the sink to pour a glass of water, ignoring his comment. “I said I’m heading home tomorrow.” After a long gulp from the glass, his best friend puts it down with a clink.

“Yeah. You’re going home tomorrow. I assume you are going to see your brother since you stayed here for Thanksgiving?” House is oddly quiet almost timid with that question.

Wilson stands up and begins to sort the empty containers across from House. “Yeah.” He shrugs hesitantly, “I haven’t seen Danny since he came home. It sounds like he might be okay now, something about new medication according to my Mom.”

He's is trying to help himself, but his pep talk is falling short and House is not good with situations like this. Both men load the dish washer and sort the trash in silence. Finally, as House moves to head home, he stops in the hall and turns back towards Wilson. He wets his lips as he finally speaks, “It wasn’t your fault. Just be there for him.”

Wilson nods as his hands dig deeper into his pants pockets . . . House is right, you are only responsible for yourself and the best you can do is let someone know you are there for them. He sighs, but finds a soft smile, “Night House.” 

A curt nod from House is all he gets as he turns to limp towards the door. “Night Wilson. See you on Monday.” Just after ten, House is out the door and Wilson calls his girlfriend; he’ll be at her place in fifteen, and she replies that it sounds fine. 

Overnight bag in hand, he quickly walks down to the garage and arrives at her place, tired. She stifles a yawn as she closes the apartment door behind him already in her pajamas. An odd feeling of anxiety again pulls at him and he asks her if she could make him a cup of tea while he showers and changes into his pajamas. She tilts her head to the side listening and seems to sense he’s feeling a bit frayed at the edges. With a quiet nod, she heads to the kitchen and he heads into the shower immediately.

The shower is quick for him, but he just wanted to rinse away his feelings of inadequacy relating to his brother and put on warm comfy clothing. She’s sitting on the couch, listening to calming music and two mugs of tea steam in the coffee table. Wordlessly, she lifts up the blanket and he joins her, pulling her in for a hug under the afghan.

“Thanks.” He smiles at her and gives her a squeeze and a quick kiss on the cheek. She snuggles into his side. “You look like you needed a hug.” Her observation is accurate; he hums in reply as his left hand gently strokes her arm. They sip their tea and just exist in the soothing calm of the chill lo-fi music in the background. As their mugs become empty it is their sign to head to bed. Teeth are brushed and both of them melt into the bed right around eleven.

They spoon for a bit and Wilson regains his calm next to her. She gives him a good hug and he relaxes in the moment as tomorrow will be stressful to him for sure. But that is tomorrow, and he drifts off to sleep swiftly.

Wilson feels quite warm as he wakes up Saturday morning, almost as though someone is pressed up against him and he feels a tickle at the back of his neck. It is still dark, and Keith isn’t even up yet. He sighs as the tickling sensation gives way to nibbles and kisses; a hand slides up along his chest under his shirt and for a second he thinks he’s dreaming, but dreams aren’t this accurate in their depiction of a female form pressing into his back.

A light laugh finally escapes from him when his girlfriend whispers in his ear, “Wake up, I can’t do this myself.” And she bites on his earlobe. With more than enough information he rolls over to face her and she pushes him down in the bed as she begins to slide down his torso. This is going to be an excellent morning.

Wilson is more than awake later as he lays over her, sweating and feeling very good and she grins below him, her free hand twirling in his hair. She’s muttering something to herself about how amazing his hair is . . . until they are rudely interrupted by Keith meowing loudly at the both of them.

He rolls off to the side and she quickly gets up to satiate feline needs before rejoining him in bed. “Thank god it is Saturday. This week wasn’t hard _per se_ , but it was long.” She lays next to him as she looks at him across the pillow.

“You’re totally correct. No disasters or emergencies, but just a full workweek.” He smiles and thinks how lovely it would be to lay in bed all day today. But he can’t do that. “I’m going to see my younger brother Danny for the first time in about half a year today.” He pauses and looks into her attentive eyes, “I have to admit, I’m a little concerned.” She looks at him for a moment as she composes her reply.

“I think that is okay. I mean, I’m not expert on relationships, but you are meeting him on terms that he can handle.” She smiles and gives his arm a good squeeze and he feels a little better. 

He reaches out and holds her hands hoping he can extract her calm exterior, “I hope so, though I haven’t been home for any part of Hanukkah in years. I mean it isn’t a major holiday or anything like that, but it just hasn’t really happened.” He waits to watch for her reaction before continuing, and she just nods along.

“After my last divorce, I’ve just stuck around Princeton and used the excuse to work through the holiday to avoid going home. I usually had a low-key celebration with my wife at the time, that is, if I wasn’t on call. Hell, I think the last time I was at my parents’ place was between Bonnie and Julie.” He sighs feeling like for someone with an excellent understanding of other people’s emotions, he’s quite bad at facing his own from time to time.

His girlfriend moves so she’s sitting up against the wall and he lays across her lap and her fingers gentle caress his scalp. Wilson’s entire body relaxes as she speaks, “Family is important, even if we don’t have a chance to see them or if we aren’t sure we should see them. As long as they aren’t horrible people, you should connect with them when you can. Who all will be there?”

He sighs and closes his eyes enjoying her soothing touches, “My younger brother Danny, as he’s currently living with my parents. My older brother Ethan, who will be there with his wife Michelle and their two kids; Sarah and David. Though Ethan and his family won’t be there until tomorrow – tonight will just be my parents, Danny and I.”

She hums in reply, and he finds himself lulled back to sleep, they did wake up quite early. The next time he wakes up, he’s alone in her bed and the smell of coffee and pancakes floats into the bedroom. The clock reads eight-twenty and he puts his clothing back on before joining her in the kitchen. “Smells great.” He tells her this as he hugs her from behind at the stove and sneaks in a kiss. 

She looks back to him with a smirk, “Just thought I’d return the favor; you are always so impressive when it comes to making breakfast.” He laughs and ruffles her messy bed head and preps the table for them.

The rest of his morning goes quickly, he showers and puts on his oatmeal v-neck sweater over the cream and salmon striped dress shirt with jeans. He was going to wear a t-shirt, but it looks like his girlfriend was a bit feisty this morning and he has – a hickey at the base of his neck, so collared shirt it is. 

In case of an emergency, he writes down his parents’ address and number. He makes it clear he’ll call her on his way back Sunday night, but likely won’t be able to see her until Monday. She tells him it is fine, and she has to do a minimal amount of Christmas shopping for a holiday gift donation drive at work.

He’s out the door and back to his condo by eleven, to do one more load of laundry and pack his overnight bag for tomorrow. Wilson tosses in the bare essentials for toiletries, his precious blow dryer and a pillow for tonight. By this point, he’d rather lug his own pillow than wake up with a severe crick in his neck. The forecast calls for a cold day but no snow until the evening and traffic seems decent. Before leaving Princeton, he swings by the local deli/grocery store to pick up half a dozen fresh bagels. The clerk comments on him as the ‘guy who shows up every four-point-five Hanukkahs’. Wilson ignores the comment with his trademark eyeroll and pays for them at the register before heading north to his parents’ house. 

Traffic was okay, and he makes it to one of the many upper middle-class suburbs in Jersey that feed into the Greater New York area. He sighs nervously as he pulls into the driveway of the home he grew up in; a two story red brick colonial complete with two car garage in the back, several mid-sized trees in the front, a small porch, white shutters around the windows and well-manicured bushes and shrubs out front. Wilson parks behind the house, but well out of the way of the garage in case someone needs to head out. His old Honda Accord from med school is there, likely Danny is driving it since he can’t see either of his parents trusting him with their cars; his Dad’s practical Subaru wagon and his Mom’s well maintained BMW.

After popping open the trunk and removing his few items, he walks to the back door and enters through the garage, open and unlocked. When he enters the kitchen at the rear of the house, he yells to his family that he’s there. 

“James! You’re here.” His mother approaches from the hallway to hug him, his arms still holding the bag, pillow and bagels. “Hi Mom. Nice to see you. I brought some bagels for tomorrow morning.” She smiles at him and accepts the bagels.

Ruth Wilson looks polished and put together as he watches her turn to put the bagels down the kitchen counter. Her hair still has streaks of brown mixed in with the grey, tied back in an elegant ponytail as a small strand falls across her forehead. Her hazel eyes sparkle at him and she is wearing an ivory dress shirt with a deep blue knit cardigan over khaki slacks. Her wool socks are barely visible under her thick slippers.

“Where are Danny and Dad?” Wilson asks her as he places his items off to the side and he pours himself a glass of water; the original Star Wars tumblers are still in the cabinet and he notices how his parents house is a design time capsule for the late seventies through mid-eighties. 

“They are watching the game in the living room. Though knowing them, they might both be asleep. The went for an early morning hike.” She smiles at him and he nods before heading forward towards the front of the house thought the main hallway, where the stairs to the basement and second floor are off to the side. The sound of hockey announcers become louder as he enters the living room in the front. The Flyers are playing the Islanders and his Dad is comfortably sitting on the couch while Danny sits in one of the recliners. 

“Hey. Good to see you both.” Wilson ruffles the back of his head off to the side of the moderately sized TV set as his Dad turns down the volume. 

“James. So good to see you.” His Dad stands up and meets him in the middle of the room, hugging him gently, he’s wearing a Rutgers sweatshirt from the late seventies at newest and dark brown corduroy pants with wool socks. “You too Dad.” Wilson’s father is lean and fit, his grey hair in a short simple haircut and his eyebrows are bushy over his deep brown eyes. It looks like he’s still hiking with the local conversation group based on his athletic build and the mention of the morning’s hike.

Wilson then hesitantly turns to his younger brother, who timidly approaches him. Danny smiles meekly, he’s wearing what appears to be one of Wilson’s old navy sweaters from undergrad and it appears to be a little loose on him and soft well-worn tan corduroy pants as well with bare feet. He had no idea his old clothing was still at his parents’ home. Nor that it fit his brother at present.

Wilson opens his arms for a hug as he gently wraps his hands around his brother. Danny hesitantly hugs him back and Wilson feels like he could break him, as though he’s brittle. He can feel bones through the sweater, and he doesn’t even want to know how skinny he is under clothing that once fit a young and much more slender version of himself. “It is good to see you Danny.” Wilson says this softly as he pats him on the back. They pull back to look at each other and Wilson tires to hold a brave face with a smile. 

Danny speaks softly, barely above a whisper, “Hi Jim.” But does not elaborate with any more details. Wilson’s eyes scan his younger brother’s face to see what it reveals; his dark brown eyes look weary and he notices wrinkles spreading across his face. His dark brown hair is peppered with grey, and his temples and edges are almost white. He can’t even image what he’s lived through all of these years and Wilson’s heart aches. His younger brother looks much older than him and he cries on the inside.

They settle back down to watch the game and Wilson idly chats with his Dad about banal things between commercial breaks and only discuss the game during the action. Quickly, Wilson is listening to the stats surrounding each team and player from his father, a retired accountant who was more than successful enough at supporting three sons and sending each of them off to college, driving nice cars and paying for their house off in record time.

Every now and then he glances over at Danny, who is curled up in a cocoon of knit blankets, quietly listening to them, somewhat present in the room. Wilson feels like his brother is a stranger in their childhood home and he’s unsure how to react. Thankfully, he at least has his Dad to lead by example and he does his best to act normal.

When the second period ends, he uses the bathroom on the first floor and goes back to check in with his Mom in the kitchen. She’s listening to the local NPR station while prepping for tonight’s meal. Feeling restless, he asks her if she could use any help. 

“Oh, not going to keep watching the game? I thought for sure with the Flyers playing you’d be interested.” Her eyebrow is arched up as she chops some potatoes before tossing them in a pot.

He shrugs with his hands in his pants pockets, “It is alright, plus, I figured I could catch up with you as well.” Wilson knows he’s partially lying to his Mom, he’s too busy in his day to day existence to follow hockey as closely as he did growing up, but he hopes she doesn’t catch onto his ‘excuse’ to catch up.

“Well, you can help me with prepping some of the vegetables and then setting the table even though it will only be the four of us tonight.” She speaks firmly with a twinge of something, something that makes him nervous, she seemed to linger over the statement of the ‘four of us’ . . .

Wilson quietly sighs his back towards her and washes his hands in the sink before he washes and chops green beans, carrots and a small amount of garlic to toss in with the beans. Over the course of their meal preparation time, Ruth tells him about Danny’s recovery bit by bit. He finally found a combination of medication that keeps him grounded and secure. He’s attending yoga and physical fitness classes to rebuild the muscle mass he lost, and his doctor is desperate to get him to put on more weight.

Danny can finally drive Wilson’s old car during the day to his appointments and he’s been hiking and birding with his Dad on most mornings with the local conversation group. As he learns more, Wilson nods, hums and asks for clarification at all of the correct points; of course, this is what his mother has trained him to do since he was young. The oven pre-heats and the two of them prep a few pieces of chicken for dinner and lay the green beans on a baking tray to roast.

The only remaining thing is to set the dining room table, across the hall from the living room and in front of the kitchen. He carefully pulls china out of one of the three china cabinets in the dining room and arranges four place settings. After a motherly nod of approval, they sit down in the kitchen at the small dark stained oak table with cups of weak coffee.

“So, James,” his Mom’s voice catches his attention as they sip the warm liquid before them, “What have you been up to?”

He smiles tightly, “Work has been busy, but that isn’t news to you.” he tilts his head as he ponders how much information to disclose, his fear is that she’ll begin to press him on any number of topics. “We hired a new oncologist in the department. I think you’d like her very much. Friendly, professional and quite organized.” 

Ruth nods in approval, “Ah, so you have another woman on the team? If I recall you mentioned that Liu was on mat-leave.”

Wilson smiles that it is indeed correct. It seems to be a good topic to elaborate on and he dives into the current mechanics of his department and touches on the electronic records system crashing and their subsequent events. He tells her excitedly about his work as an independent reviewer for the clinical trial and she remarks that he hasn’t seemed this active outside of Princeton-Plainsboro in years.

They continue the conversation, while preparing the food and bring it to the table before he walks in to find his Dad and brother asleep. Wilson rouses both of them and they head off to wash up before meeting in the dining room. Feeling like a child, Wilson is given the honor of lighting the sixth candle of the holiday before they sit down to enjoy a simple home cooked meal of roasted chicken, pan fried potatoes, roasted green beans and baked carrots. 

There is a quiet calm during dinner, but after they clear the plates and remain at the table sipping glasses of wine, his Mom makes her first move; asking him about Thanksgiving. It starts out simple enough, asking how it went.

Wilson clears his throat and fidgets slightly in his chair across from her, “House and I joined Cuddy and Lucas for dinner at her place with Cuddy’s sister and her family. It was quite nice.”

“Cuddy, she’s Lisa Cuddy, your boss, correct?” Ruth already knows this, but it is leading somewhere that Wilson does not want to go.

“Yes. The Dean of Medicine.” Wilson plays with the stem of his now empty wine glass wishing he were more intoxicated than the single glass he’s had so far.

Ruth then presses further, “You know, I thought for sure a few years ago you were interested in her. She’s a lovely Jewish girl and I always thought she’d be great with you. Both doctors, both of you work hard and she’s a strong woman. But you spent the holiday with her and her boyfriend. Why?”

Wilson glances to see his Dad silently drinking his wine bushy eyebrows raised in sympathy for him, while Danny smiles timidly just watching the awkward mother-son dynamic. Sighing for a moment, he ruffles his hair and looks at his Mom’s intense eyes, the hazel burning brighter in the ambient lighting. “It was for House. Cuddy and I discussed that he needed to be invited somewhere for the holiday. He’s friends with Lucas, and despite their bizarre relationship, House and Cuddy respect each other. She’s supported him through his recovery the entire time. It was the right thing to do.”

“You know,” Ruth’s voice becomes colder as she speaks, “that friend of yours, Greg, has been more of burden to you than you realize. Ever since your wedding to Bonnie, he’s been a constant distraction in your life and he clearly impacted your marriages!” Danny slides off to use the bathroom while his Dad just quietly switches to hard liquor in the background.

Wilson rolls his eyes and huffs loudly in protest, “You know damn well that I screwed up my marriage with Bonnie; how many times do I have to tell you that I had an affair and it had nothing to do with House. He just pissed Bonnie off, similar to how he effects many other people.”

An annoyed sound comes from his mother’s throat, “I’ll never believe that lame excuse, I raised you to be an upstanding young man. That flighty blonde, Sam, left you before you even had settled into your career even though you went to great lengths to support her. Julie cheated on you, though I suspect it has something to do with you working too hard and being distracted by that friend of yours. When are you going to settle down James? Ethan and Michelle have been married for sixteen years and have two lovely children.”

Groaning loudly, Wilson stares up at the dining room lamp for any sort of divine assistance, though his belief in any higher power is negligible at best. “Mooooom. Will you stop with the comparisons to my older brother? Things have gone well for Ethan because he’s a practical engineer; he dated with intention and criteria and found a woman who meet his checklist. You already have two grandchildren; they aren’t something that if you collect more of them, your life improves.” The temperature under his collar increases as he can see the emotions rising through his Mom’s posture.

“James! How could” Ruth only gets this far before his Dad speaks. “I think that is enough for right now. Remember this is about connecting with our children, not arguing with them.”

Wilson hangs his head as he stands up to clear his place from the table. “I’m going to step out for some air.” He puts on his winter coat and shoes and walks out the back door to stand on the open patio, furniture covered in tarps for the winter. His breath hangs in the crisp air as he sighs; he still isn’t sure where things went ‘wrong’; he was the obedient middle child doing whatever was required of him. Large fluffy snowflakes flutter down around him, coating the yard with a soft layer of ice crystals.

Once in high school, his mid-semester report card had an A- in English. His Mom glared at it as he bowed his head before her as she told him that it was unacceptable. She had a B.A. of English literature from Bryn Mawr; and no child of hers was going to get any lower than an A in **_any_** English class. He’s never quite sure on how he felt about such expectations; Ruth’s unrelenting push for academic success easily allowed him to succeed as an undergrad and a medical student. Wilson knows he wouldn’t have the job he holds today without her parental pressure, but he wonders if she sometimes went about things the - less than ideal way. Danny struggled once he started college and he wasn’t the older brother to help him navigate those expectations.

The back door opens, “Hey, you’ll catch a cold if you are out there any longer.” His Dad smiles at him and gestures for him to come back in. “Help me out with the dishes, you know how your Mom expects the china to be hand washed and dried.” Wilson nods to his Dad and returns to the house.

Joel Wilson is a numbers guy and prefers subtle additive actions to emotional speeches to get his points across. He fills the sink with warm water squirting in bright green Palmolive dish soap and nods to the dish rack and towels for Wilson to join him.

His Dad quietly discusses tomorrow’s plans; he’s going to take Danny out birding with a few friends in the morning and they will need to add in the leaf to the dining room table and a few other odds and ends. Wilson’s Dad is soothing to him, a man who finds a way to break down his emotions in a calm and orderly fashion. As he’s become older, he’s grown to respect his Dad more and more. Which sounds odd, since he’s always loved and respected him, but he never quite understood his cool exterior complemented the burning passion and emotion of his Mom.

Even though it is quite early, Wilson is emotionally exhausted, and he finds his Mom and Danny relaxing in the family room reading. “Where should I sleep?” he asks his Mom since she likely had things planned for at least a week.

“Danny is in the guest room, Ethan’s old room. You’ll have to sleep in your old bedroom.” She looks up briefly from her book before returning the page. 

“Well, I’m off to shower and go to bed. Night.” Wilson then picks up his pillow and overnight bag and climbs the stairs to his old bedroom. He opens the door to find it almost unchanged since he graduated from McGill and started medical school, which means it appears as the room of high school student. All three of the bedrooms were painted and decorated with various themes, designed and executed by his Mom, of course. Ethan had a forest, hunting themed room, Danny’s was camping and hiking themed, and his was (and still is) nautical. Paintings of sailboats and clipper ships framed in a soft gold hang on two of the walls, and his room is a mix of navy blue and soft white with grey accents. The curtains were, and still are nautical map printed fabric and his old dresser is white and blue. High school awards are still framed and hung over a small desk; a silver medal on the National Latin Exam (level three), a third-place finish in Drama performance from the State Speech Tournament and his National Honor Society certificate.

He tosses down his bag and pulls out his toiletries and pajamas and walks to the main bathroom he shared with his brothers. It is like a time capsule of a late seventies bathroom; wood paneling and earth tones. The shower is clean and a few of Danny’s items are out, basic no frills shampoo and conditioner along with a cheap moisturizer and mint toothpaste. All are simple items, much cheaper than the high end goods he uses.

Wilson lingers in the shower before he towels off his hair; he’ll worry about blow drying it tomorrow. He follows his entire grooming routine with little interruption and flops down on the twin bed before ten, his clock radio still set to the correct date and time. Curious, he opens the closet to see a few boxes full of his primary school items and yearbooks. His cap and gowns from various graduation ceremonies are neatly hung and the only unusual items are a few photo albums in white marble binders. _What are these?_ he thinks, and he pulls one out to figure out what they contain that relates to him. It opens to a middle page where he sees a photo of him at his first wedding to Sam as she smashes a piece of their wedding cake into his face, both of them laughing. Members of their wedding party laugh and clap in delight on the surrounding pictures and he settles on the bed with the album.

Feeling bold, he turns to the first page, showing Sam and her mother dressing for the ceremony. As he turns the pages, he notices how dominating Sam’s body language is to his much more subtle posture where he defers to her in many of the pictures. Ideally, a wedding should be an equal relationship between two individuals, but that is much easier said than observed and practiced in reality. He did everything he could to support her and her career goals, even if it meant sacrificing his own. Knowing now what the other two albums contain, he tosses the album in his hands back onto the pile and doesn’t need to look back at how his body language likely conveyed the fate of the next two marriages.

A huge yawn reminds him that tomorrow will likely be a long and emotionally charged day, since he didn’t resolve his issues with Mom and Ethan will be there adding to the, ‘what happened to my golden boy?’ dynamic of her critiques. He puts his phone on silent, tosses the flat old pillow to the floor and crawls under the soft well-worn bedding (navy and white plaid flannel bed sheets and a sea themed masculine comforter) with his comfortable modern pillow. Wilson rolls around a bit testing the spatial limitations of a twin bed on a forty-plus year-old body. He finally finds a decent position before he drifts off to sleep.

Sunday morning, Wilson wakes up feeling stiff and with a quick glance around this familiar space wonders if he’s overslept and will be late for school. He turns to the clock radio displaying a time of seven-oh-nine and he sighs into the pre-dawn weak light before coming to the realization that school doesn’t happen on Sunday and he’s long past his primary education. The mattress creaks and he sits up feeling the cold air on his fully clothed body and remembers how cold his north-west facing bedroom is. Drawing back a curtain with his right hand, he sees the morning glow of a fresh coating of snow and clear skies changing from purple to blue, to pink and a faint yellow. Pulling out a pair of thick wool socks and his McGill sweatshirt he quietly uses the bathroom, hair a complete mess, sleep still in the corners of his eyes.

Walking downstairs, he can smell the sweet aroma of coffee; a pot of coffee is warm in the machine and a note is besides it. 

**James – Make sure to turn the coffee maker off after you are done with it. Mom won’t be up until after 9. Daniel and I are birding and should be back around 8:30. – Dad**

He smiles to himself; his Dad is the most considerate person he knows, and he pours himself a cup while slicing a single bagel and popping it in the toaster oven. Two bagels are already missing from the bag; he’s glad they ate them before heading out this morning. However early it was . . . .

He sits down at the well-worn kitchen table that was barely large enough to fit all five of them back in the day, scratched and scuffed. The morning paper is neatly folded, and he slowly reads it while nibbling on his bagel and sipping coffee. It is so odd being back at your parents’ place he thinks to himself; his old bedroom is in stasis; save for the academic gowns and wedding photos, there is no evidence of him ever leaving the house or aging beyond the age of eighteen. 

The sound of the garage door alerts him to the return of Danny and his Dad. They stomp knocking the snow off of their boots and enter the kitchen in their socks. “Mornin’. Have a nice time?” Wilson asks them this as he looks up from the business section. 

His Dad vibrates in excitement, “You bet we did!” and he goes into great detail of the birds they saw and even points out all the ones that Danny spotted as his brother softly blushes. Another pot of coffee is brewed as the three of them talk about nothing in particular.

Just before nine, the flush of a toilet upstairs announces the awakening of his Mom and she walks down the stairs with confident steps. “Morning. Oh excellent, you’ve made a pot of coffee.” She’s wearing a long robe over flannel pajamas and thick slippers and can think of nothing coherent until she’s had at least one cup of coffee. So, at present, Wilson is relaxed as he skims the remaining sections of the paper.

Her second cup of coffee poured and half of a bagel and grapefruit before her, Wilson’s Mom sits down at the table next to him. Danny timidly explains the morning birdwatching and hike to her as she nods, and Wilson watches the subtle expressions on her face. So many emotions are happening at once, a look of relief that her youngest son is back, but a sense of doubt that he’ll be lost again, and he senses a twinge of disappointment and even failure on her behalf. 

Based on her cutting words to him last night, it is clear that Ruth Wilson, likely feels responsible for why two of her three sons haven’t ‘lived up’ to their full potential. Granted, his success as a doctor and well documented career progression don’t count since he’s unmarried and as far as she knows still single.

His Dad announces that they should shovel off the driveway, sidewalk and front porch this morning to take advantage of the bright sunny day. Wilson ruffles his hair and uses the excuse that he only has his tennis shoes and a pair of oxfords, hoping to get out of the task. With pinpoint accuracy, his Dad calls him out on it, stating that no child of his would lack winter boots in the trunk of their car during the winter and he finds himself staring at the floor blushing. 

Caught, he ruffles his hair again, and states he at least needs to shower and get dressed before heading outside. Embarrassed enough for the moment, he moves to retreat to upstairs to shower and clothe himself. As he washes out his mug at the sink his mother’s voice causes him to freeze.

“James, what happened to your neck? You’ve got a bruise right at your neckline.” She seems genuinely curious and he coughs a few times feeling like it would be better to melt into the very floor than admit anything to his Mom, even at this point in his life.

“What? There is a bruise on James’ neck?” His Dad now seems concerned and he wants to know that despite advancing in his own age, his parents will forever make him feel like he’s permanently eighteen. He once thought that by time he was thirty, they’d all of a sudden give up on active parenting and accept him, but that has **_not_** held true.

Right hand rubbing his neck, with the elbow pointing up at an angle he sighs loudly while staring at the tile floor below his feet. “Er. It is nothing.” His left hand makes a sweeping gesture before him, “You know, things like this happen from time to time. . . .” and he hopes that it is enough information to go on.

He catches the first real smile on Danny’s lips since he arrived as Danny covers his mouth with his right hand trying to stifle a growing need to laugh and his Mom only makes things worse.

“This happens from time to time? What on earth are you saying?” She seems completely perplexed; that second cup of coffee was not enough for full alertness. A laugh escapes from Danny and his Dad sighs in comprehension of what his son is trying to discreetly tell them without spelling it out. Losing his patience, Wilson finally blurts it out with dynamic hand motions that he flings into the air above his head. “For the love of god, it is a hickey Mom!” He feels like whatever tension between the two of them had been building since he stepped into the house yesterday has been broken in a tidal wave of frustration. “I have a hickey, on my neck, right here.” And he points to it with his left index finger. 

Taking a deep breath, he then calmly announces he will shower before he returns to assist with snow removal. Ruth stares into her coffee cup, gazing deep into it for answers it cannot give her. His Dad and brother burst out laughing and excuse themselves to slightly change from winter hiking clothing to slightly lighter layers for shoveling.

Wilson takes his sweet time showering; hair is washed, conditioned and his skin is exfoliated before a full moisturization step. He blow dries his hair it for his perfect signature wave and will make sure to wear his ear muffs while outside. Throwing the McGill sweatshirt over a fresh t-shirt and yesterday’s jeans he gathers his outwear and dashes out to retrieve his snow boots from the car. Only then, is he ready to help in shoveling; his Dad tackles the smaller areas while he and Danny are tasked with the driveway. Neighbors that have lived in the area for years walk by and stop to chat with the men and Wilson can’t believe how many people still reside in the area. As a result, things do not go as quickly as he’d like, but then again, he’s in no rush for the flurry of questions his Mom is likely generating in her mind at this very moment.

During a short break of shoveling the wet and heavy snow, Danny softly speaks, “Hey Jim. I know there is no good time say this, so I’ll just tell you now.” Wilson is surprised at what his brother may have to say so he smiles and nods with is best ‘I’m listening face’. “Go on.” He encourages his brother to continue, a shadow of his former self.

“I just wanted to say, it wasn’t your fault. I know you blamed yourself for not being there for me. But there wasn’t anything you could do. All I can say now is that I’m slowly working my way back to a stable existence. So, knowing that you are here for me is what matters.” And in that moment, he sees the younger brother he remembered and lost many years ago and his eyes swell up as his nose begins to run slightly.

They move to continue shoveling, and he stops them before returning to work, “How did you know? I’ve never told Mom, Dad or Ethan about that.” He’s completely flummoxed at how Danny would know about the guilt that has haunted Wilson all these years.

“Oh, it was the letter from your therapist.” Danny speaks simply as Wilson maintains a poker face, trying to think of what therapist would have broken patient confidentiality to talk to his brother . . . Danny elaborates, “It was from a Doctor Steven Holmes, in Princeton. He sent me a letter this spring explaining that he couldn’t say very much, but that it would help with our healing process if I told you about this.” And Danny smiles and returns to shoveling, leaving Wilson paused in contemplation of this information. 

A doctor Holmes. . . . the only person whom he ever admitted how he felt about Danny’s disappearance was House. It appears while in rehab, House pre-emptively reached out to Danny in preparation for the time he’d be alone with him and ready to speak to Wilson. Shaking his head and laughing lightly to himself, Wilson returns to clearing the driveway. His best friend is the only person who’d break so many rules out of his love for him. And for that, Wilson silently thanks House and his rebel attitude towards the rules of medical practice.

As they finish up, his Dad methodically salts the sidewalk, front walk, porch and the driveway. Returning to the warm house in victory of conquering snow covered concrete, they settle in the family room to relax and enjoy a cozy fire. By now, the sound of the washing machine rumbles in the basement and Ruth dashes about cleaning things up here and there while triple checking her list of items for this evening’s dinner. Wilson and Danny become responsible for inserting a leaf into the dining room table, wiping down and polishing the extra chairs and any other heavy lifting that his fit and active parents can’t perform anymore.

After a very light lunch, Wilson is roped into kitchen duty with his Mom, which will also give her the chance to learn more about his current relationship status. While they wash and chop veggies, she starts out slow and steady, her known interrogation style. 

“So, you are seeing someone? Is it serious?” Ruth’s knife punctuates her question as it cuts through a carrot with force.

Wilson smiles at the brussel sprouts before him, “I am seeing someone, yes. It is hard to say how serious it is since we’ve only been dating for a few months.” He glances up at her before returning his gaze to the small green plant products before him.

“A few months? That hasn’t stopped you before from bringing girlfriends over to meet us in the past.” She begins to press him more aggressively. Wilson trims the sprouts as he carefully constructs a reply, he knows if he’s too vague she’ll play the ‘You’ve never hid things from me in the past’ card. Which has always been true and false – she made it difficult for him to hide things from her and he got better at evading or telling half-truths to escape her sharp emotional radar.

“The past few years have been tough; House went into rehab for Vicodin addiction and he’s slowly returning to a more complete version of himself. My last serious girlfriend died suddenly; you only met her once in passing and I could tell you did not approve of her.” Wilson pauses to keep his calm and not get swept up in the sheer amount of emotions that underlie those two sentences. “Honestly, from an objective point of view, my relationships have been doomed to fail from the start. You taught me to respect my partner and to make sure to support her in all of her needs, but I may have been too caught up in the need to be needed and lost myself and my own needs in the shuffle.”

He sighs as he finally stops working and turns to her, his hands lightly on his hips, “I am grateful that you raised me this way, it has made me a successful doctor and department head. I now run a team which is half women and I’m so happy with how things are going at work. I can easily navigate administrative issues with Cuddy, and I have thrived with a woman at the helm of PPTH.” His Mom has now stopped cutting her carrots and holds the knife loosely in her left hand. Her full attention is on him and she is oddly silent for a woman who has an opinion on everything.

Wilson feels his body relaxing as he continues his open dialogue with her, “With so many unsuccessful relationships as an adult, I’ve become hesitant to tell you about things. I don’t want to get your hopes or more simply, my hopes up during the early stages of a relationship. We both know that I fall in love **_hard_** and **_fast_**. I know you want me to be happy and to find someone. Hell, I want to be content and find someone. I’ve never felt alone as I did when Amber died only to be followed by House entering rehab about a year later.”

And with that, Wilson turns back to his sprouts to trim off the ends when his Mom hugs him in a warm embrace. “I never knew how you felt about these things. I always just thought that with each marriage that ‘this will work out’ since every person you’ve been with has been a reasonable woman.” He sighs as he hugs her back, a rare moment where they are on the same page and she’s not trying to tell him what he should do next.

The hug ends as she tells him that the vegetables aren’t going to chop and cook themselves, and then makes it clear to him, he will cover the physical evidence of his relationship, resulting in a next level eyeroll from him. Of course, he’d packed another collared shirt and tie to wear with his sweater. He’s not just going to show off a hickey at dinner.

An hour before Ethan and Michelle are to arrive with their young teenage kids, Wilson freshens up and puts on his maroon tie with the gold circle pattern and a light pink dress shirt under the oatmeal sweater with jeans. 

His older brother and family live outside of Philly where they both work as engineers, though Michelle went part time when their kids were young. They arrive with engineered efficiency, their thirteen and fourteen-year-old kids sulking behind them. During the dinner, he sits between Sarah and David; with ease pulls them out of their ‘tough’ exterior shells and has them joking around with him and Danny by dessert.

Wilson only feels the barbs of a remark from his Mom about how she would have preferred he came home for the first night of the holiday like a good son; of course, Ethan is excused from this jab since he and Michelle spent the evening with her family instead. However, Wilson doesn’t expect his Mom to change her over seventy years of life and forty-six years of parenting from a single conversation this afternoon.

They relax in the family room for a bit and Wilson thinks about how he should get ready to drive back to Princeton and his brother will have an even longer drive back to their place. He walks to the first-floor bathroom and stops in the kitchen to hydrate with a glass of water – he didn’t drink more than two glasses of wine, but he wants to make sure he’s as well hydrated as possible. He looks out the kitchen window to see the snow falling heavily, the once clear driveway is already coated in white. His car is quickly being covered and Ethan’s Subaru is also collecting a fair amount. 

He returns to the family room and asks if anyone has recently checked the weather. A few of them head to the living room to learn that a winter storm warning has been issued for the entire state. A surprise snowstorm formed in the late afternoon and most people found themselves greeted with a developing winter wonderland. Beautiful to look at, but not safe to drive in.

Wilson immediately calls into PPTH, there is no way he’ll be back in Princenton tonight and talks to Smith who is on call. They discuss adjusting the schedule and he’ll email Susan, letting her know that Wilson is stuck out of town. At the same time Ethan and Michelle are logging into their laptops (because of course they brought their work with them) and contacting people at work and making sure to cover off any issues. Sarah and David high five each other, celebrating no school tomorrow and Ruth quickly steps into delegate evening chores and sleeping arrangements. Wilson stays in his bedroom, while Danny will move into his old room (also unchanged from when he left for college). Ethan’s old room is now the guest room which he’ll sleep in with Michelle. The kids can sleep on the large comfy couches of the family room and everyone bustles about getting ready for bed.

Pajamas are dug out of pine scented dresser drawers, and a load of clothing is washed tonight so everyone will have clean items to wear tomorrow. Wilson’s causal items tumble along with everyone else’s as his Mom coordinates everything. He showers and goes to the bedroom early for some alone time. Dialing his girlfriend, she picks up the phone right before nine. It is nice to hear her voice over the line and she immediately asks if he’s getting as much snow as she’s watching it pile up in Princeton.

He confirms that he’s indeed still at his parents’ place along with both brothers and his sister in-law, niece and nephew. She replies that she’s glad he didn’t try to drive back; the roads are pretty bad, and she already got an email to work remotely from home tomorrow.

Wilson feels so happy that she is worried about him, so loved by her (and her comment). He can’t really flirt well with her over the phone, additionally he is in his childhood bedroom which really kills the mood. He decides to joke about the situation instead. “Guess where I’m sleeping tonight?” he makes sure to channel is most playful voice and she replies she has no idea – the couch perhaps?

He laughs, “Oh, that might be better. I’m in my old bedroom which is a literal time capsule to my senior year of high school. Other than a few items from after then, it has remained unchanged all these years. Down to the curtains and the bedding on this tiny twin bed!” She seems thoroughly impressed, commenting that her own Mom was so excited when she moved out of the house, she quickly took over the old bedroom. He considers how he’s dated her long enough to realize that nostalgia holds little importance for her and likely her parents do not care for it either.

Monday morning, Wilson wakes up to a clear and sunny day, and deep drifts of snow cover the yard. Trees occasionally make snapping noises; their branches bend and drop snow to the ground as they spring back to shape, no longer under the weight.

With all three adult children back home, Joel leads them in the rapid removal of snow from all surfaces and commands them with his calm silence. The city plows drive down the tree lined suburban street and the news channels bounce back between warning drivers to be careful but how magical the day is. 

By noon, the major roads and highways are clear for travel and government officials thank people for their patience reporting that hospitals reported few weather-related accidents. After a lunch with their complete family (and then some) Ruth and Joel see Wilson and his brother’s family off. He shakes Ethan’s hand firmly as they hug and he proceeds to hug Michelle and the kids, now completely chill with him as their somewhat distant but okay uncle. Wilson lingers when he hugs Danny, he has a long way to go, but he’s confident that this is the right place for him at the moment. Wilson’s once an accountant, always an accountant, Dad is wearing a brown argyle sweater vest over a tan shirt and dark brow wool pants and matching argyle socks. He gently hugs Wilson, patting him on the back and reminds him to come back sooner rather than later.

His mother is impeccably dressed, this time wearing a teal cotton crewneck sweater over a pristine white collared shirt and khaki pants. “James, you take care of yourself, okay?” She firmly tells him this while they hug. He nods in reply, “I will.”

With that everyone heads off in their intended directions, Wilson listens to the Neko Case CD he’d forgotten was still in his possession. As he safely navigates his way back home, he finds himself mentally connecting his Mom with the tornado, doing its best to let the speaker know it loves her but causes collateral damage though no ill intent. In a way that is what it is like in a parent-child relationship. You try your best, but being both human, you are bound to make mistakes and hurt each other. What is most important is that you communicate your feelings and keep trying.

He swings by his condo; dropping off clothing, and picking up fresh before heads over to his girlfriend’s place. She had texted him earlier in reply to his ETA message, she’d make a pot of chile and he is more than welcome to take some of the leftovers to work on Tuesday.

Upon entering her apartment, he drops his items and hugs her; so glad to be back in her orbit. She’s surprised by his clinginess, but quickly realizes any trip home to the parents is a mix of stress and relief that your family is still with you. Over bowls of chile, he tells her some of the details of his weekend but downplays how significant it was that he pushed back towards his Mom. Of course, she laughs at his hickey story and he has to stop for her to wipe her eyes since it was so funny to her, she laughed so hard tears ran down her face. Despite that, she listens attentively and tells him that she struggles with keeping her family up to date on her personal life, since as she states it, ‘it is personal.’

He laughs at her blunt and direct reply, before he kisses her on the cheek. It seems like he’d been away from her longer than a few short days and a very teenage make-out session starts on the couch before ending with very adult sex in her bedroom.

Right after she turns off the lamp, he rolls over to kiss her one last time on the cheek. “I love you.” he smiles into the darkness and she ruffles his dry but messy hair. “Thank you. You’re a good boyfriend.” And she leans forward to kiss him on the lips. “Night.”

They both settle into her bed and a beerrrtt sound announces the arrival of Keith as he leaps up onto the bed. He then curls into a cat shaped circle between them. Wilson drifts off to sleep feeling content and happy for the first time in years after visiting his family. It wasn’t a bad weekend after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, another chapter comes to an end. I hope you enjoyed my take on Wilson's family and upbringing. And for the record, by no means is his mother a bitch; she is a strong woman with high expectations for her children.
> 
> I couldn't help but imagine Wilson taking Latin as a student and of course scoring decently on the National Latin Exam. I think my award is still in a box at my parents' house somewhere. We know he has a love of acting, drama, and musicals, so I had him also participate in Speech and Debate, but in Drama, thus why he acted in his friend's 'film' as an undergraduate. 
> 
> Wilson has no sense of interior design style or taste; he didn't care b/c he's never seen the point and the women in his life have always done that for him. He just never took the thought to his Mom as well. 
> 
> Of course, House would totally violate 'patient confidentiality' and during his letter writing phase of rehab, he'd reach out to Wilson's brother to tell him the things he knew for his best friend's own benefit.
> 
> Out of the male cast members of House, he has the most nuanced relationship with women. He frequently reaches out to mentor Cameron during her time on House's team and he tries to remain professional while clearly still attracted to the many women around him. His 'carefully calibrating' actions tell us that he will do whatever it takes to please a woman, and as we learned with Sam, even at the expense of his own career goals. I am frequently annoyed that many people call Wilson's character a doormat - he isn't. He hates conflict and avoids it like the plague, but he is a much better master manipulator of others, frequently missed by House ,despite his obsession with Wilson as his best (and only) friend.


	26. a Wilson can learn new [behaviors] tricks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We are told time and time again communication is key. Wilson and his girlfriend are learning how to communicate and the type of compromises that might occur in a relationship. House moves away from Wilson being his crutch professionally, and the prim and proper Eva Forrester returns to stir up minor drama. Or at least stress Wilson out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was originally 44 pages (1.5 spacing with 12 point font) in word and I realized I had created something far too long. So, here is the first half.
> 
> I will finally make it to the winter formal in the following chapter for fluffy goodness.

After the snow day on Monday, your work week returns to normal. Wilson slept over and was out the door fairly early to make sure he could catch up on things today. He made sure to kiss you on his way out the door as he juggles his briefcase and some leftover chile for lunch.

You hope that you can get into the lab or greenhouse this week, since the snow day allowed you to log in and work on lots of boring but necessary things remotely. The roads are clear, and you notice all of the neatly formed snow piles and can tell that lots of people worked long hours to make things safe for all of the nine to fivers. When you arrive at the office, your boss tells you that there will be a meeting before lunch for the group to touch base and hopefully give you a chance to get back to your original project before this seasonal hustle.

The meeting is productive and by the end of it, you are relieved to learn that if you can finish up part of a report by tomorrow evening, you can return to the lab. Motivated by the reward of working with your plants, you settle into your desk after lunch. Headphones on and a playlist of the indie/alternative 80s queued up, it is time to work. As the day comes to a close you leave feeling confident you can wrap things up by the deadline tomorrow.

Keith greets you with vigor at the door waiting for supper and your attention. While you are cooking your phone pings indicating a new message. It is from Wilson.

**_I’m stuck on something. Call me when you have a chance._ **

This is a rather unusual text from him. There is a twinge of concern that tugs at your mind, but the fact he’s asking for your advice is – flattering? No. Comforting? Somewhat. Seen as having an important opinion? Closer to how you are feeling.

It is tricky to call him in the middle of cooking, so you’ll give him a call after done with things.

* * *

Wilson is out the door of his girlfriend’s apartment earlier than normal. He would have loved to have had more time, but he’s got a department to run. As his car warms up on the street, he dials House’s cell to see if he needs a ride to work, but it kicks him to his voicemail, a rather long-winded message for such a blunt man.

**_You have reached the mobile phone of Doctor Gregory House. If you are Wilson, stop worrying, it will give you a permanent brow line; the ladies don’t find that sexy. If you’ve managed to keep listening, make sure to leave a message after the beep. BEEEEEEEEP_ ** **[still House speaking]**

It finally reaches the actual beep. And yes, Wilson tells House he’s on his way into PPTH and he was just checking if he needed a ride into work. Even though he knows House will likely ignore his message anyways. It is always the thought that counts.

Wilson swings by the main desk and finds no urgent messages; he proceeds to walk towards his office. As he peers into House’s office, he sees a mess of papers strewn about and empty take out containers. The main part of the office is equally messy and Taub is asleep on the table. It would appear that House has a case . . . He drops off his things in his office, puts on his whitecoat to prepare for his rounds and heads to catch up with Susan in the Oncology office.

“Morning Susan! Thanks for holding the fort down yesterday.” Wilson smiles and nods in thanks towards her.

“Oh no problem Doctor Wilson. Doctor Smith was great at helping out; the fact he lives walking distance to Princeton-Plainsboro has already come in handy twice this year!” She’s beaming, wearing a Christmas themed ensemble of a red and green plaid skirt, red cardigan and a crisp white blouse. Her office is completely decorated with Christmas, New Year’s, Hanukkah and Kwanzaa themed items. Susan will never be accused of not being inclusive enough for the twenty-first century.

Wilson sighs as he picks up any additional messages, mail and paperwork from his box. He glances at the items while continuing to chat with Susan. “That is great to hear, you wouldn’t happen to know where Smith is? I can relive him and give him a chance to head home.”

Susan’s chipper reply catches him by surprise, “He’s in the lounge, likely asleep with Doctor House. He was assisting him on his case yesterday.”

House had Smith help him out with a case? And he didn’t call Wilson to pester him in the wee hours of the morning? He’s shocked; it was nice not getting the impulsive and intrusive medical questions from House, but he feels a little hurt . . . it isn’t like his phone was off . . .

“Oh. That’s interesting. Well, I’ll go check in on him.” Wilson recycles any paperwork that can be tossed and signs off any immediate needs to hand back to Susan. He turns to head to the lounge to check in on both eccentric men when Susan stops him in the door.

“Doctor Wilson, I almost forgot, yesterday I took a message from a Doctor Forrester; she had wanted to schedule a lunch meeting with you, but I told her you wouldn’t be in until today due to the snowstorm. I just put a placeholder in your calendar to call her back.” She smiles making sure Wilson will follow up.

“Thanks Susan.” Wilson forces a smile before he steps through the door to the lounge. Shit, he totally forgot about that agreement to talk to Eva; he has no idea what she wants other than that he could tell that something was bothering her. Another sigh escapes from his lips as he opens the Oncology lounge doors. Smith is out cold on one of the couches; he’s lying on his stomach and a left arm dangles, his hand touching the floor, his brown suit coat tossed on the armrest. On another couch, House groans as he hears the door swing shut, his jacket over his upper body and his leg propped up on a pillow for extra comfort and support.

Wilson quietly heads over to the kitchenette to put on the coffee maker and electric kettle for both men respectively. The gurgling and bubbling noises of the coffee maker get a response from House as he begins to fidget and finally speaks, “Coffee . . . Wilson?”

“Morning House. Unusual to find you asleep in the Oncology lounge.” Wilson opens the cabinet to pull down a clean mug for House and one for him as well.

The jacket falls off of his chest as House emerges from beneath it and slowly massages his leg before sitting upright and allowing for Wilson to join him on the couch. He’s wearing one of his many graphic tees, slight sweat stains indicate that he long ago abandoned his button down feeling constricted by it.

“So, since you are here, it indicates that NJDOT along with all of the local resources have cleared the vast majority of the roads.” House blinks a few times and rubs his short hair and Wilson wordlessly offers him a hot cup of coffee. He then settles down next to his best friend and takes a deep sip of his own.

“Yep, it is amazing what happens with public infrastructure works.” Wilson speaks plainly and then quirks up an eyebrow inquisitively, “You got a case in the midst of all of this, it seems.”

House’s eyes are shut as he imbibes the coffee, slowly coming back to life with the power of a legal stimulant. With a grunt, House opens his eyes before replying, “Yeah. It was actually Smith who called me in on Sunday – early afternoon, I think. He was doing the Oncology rounds when we got a rather unusual case in the ER. I didn’t realize that he also specialized in balance and motor skills; a patient had symptoms that didn’t quite add up, so he rang me.”

Wilson nods, “Wow, that must have been a convincing argument from Smith to get you in on a Sunday!” he finds himself lightly laughing as House groans in annoyance. 

“I’m not saying that Smith is a master of manipulating me, like certain other Oncologists, he just read the patient’s vitals and I knew something was off. By time I realized I needed help, the winter storm was too much for the rest of the fellows to get in, so Smith and I did the differential and started running tests.” House takes a huge gulp of coffee, “I only lucked out because Taub was on Clinic duty yesterday morning that I was able to rope him in, the rest of the team will be in likely this morning. I left them instructions on the board.”

Wilson smiles, it seems that House respects Smith more than he realized, he wouldn’t have taken the case if Smith’s argument wasn’t interesting enough. “Well, how goes the case now?” Wilson is curious if House will pester him for a moment of enlightenment or if he just wants to go home and let his brain rest by not being at work.

House yawns loudly, “Patient is stable for the time being. Doesn’t look like cancer or an infection.” He slowly stands up and picks up his cane in one hand, the empty mug in the other. With a nod of his head, House tells Wilson they should leave Smith to sleep for a little longer. Silently, Wilson accepts House’s mug and he rinses them off and places them in the dishwasher to be run later in the day.

Holding the lounge door open for House, Wilson nods for him to exit and both men head back to their neighboring offices. “What are the marching orders for your team?” Wilson is curious what House will do next.

“Oh, just a battery of neurological tests. Thankfully, I already reserved all the equipment for today, Foreman can choose which ones to do.” House yawns again and Wilson occasionally gets a whiff of his well-aged body odor, indicative of two nights at work. 

Wilson passes his office and stops outside the Diagnostics office to see Foreman, Chase and Thirteen pouring over the file at the table while Taub cleans up his supper from last night. He sways as House turns back to him right before opening the main door to the office.

“Well, clean up and get some sleep while the team runs the tests for you.” He then points at House with his free right hand, “Lunch tomorrow.”

House smirks as he opens the office door, “Of course, I can’t say no when you are paying!” House grins back at Wilson and he can’t help but to smile at him.

“Later House.” Wilson pivots to return to his office and behind and through the glass he can hear House billowing orders to his team of fellows and telling Taub to head home and get some rest as well.

Tossing the pile of paperwork on his desk, he sighs before taking a seat and booting up his laptop to check his schedule for the day, it is only eight-thirty. The note on his calendar to call Eva pops up and he flips through the handwritten message that corresponds to it along with her office number. For a reason Wilson can’t quite identify, he dials the number with a feeling of hesitation.

A chipper voice picks up, clearly a personal secretary, “Good morning, you’ve reached the office of Doctor Eva Forrester. How many I assist you?” Channeling his golden best, Wilson politely explains that he’s returning a missed call from Doctor Forrester and the chipper secretary tells him to hold as she connects him to Doctor Forrester.

Eva’s cool voice greets him, “Hello James. I see you got my message.”

“Yes, just returning your call. This is about having a lunch meeting after the reviewer session on Friday, correct?” Wilson decides to take the initiative to see if he can figure out what her angle is.

Eva Forrester unfortunately, doesn’t give him much to work with. “Yes, about lunch. I can’t do lunch that day due to another scheduling conflict. Let’s meet for dinner instead; Cloud at six.”

Wilson finds his mouth moving to reply but only empty sounds come out – she what – no lunch to discuss things – dinner at Cloud. He struggles to find a reply, “I – ah – well.”

“Sounds like you are open. I’ll go ahead and have my secretary make the reservation.” Eva speaks with such authority that Wilson finds himself oddly lacking for his trademark eloquence and ruffles his hair vigorously while the phone is in the crick of his neck.

“Have a good day. My secretary will touch base with yours. Bye.” Eva ends the phone call with a soft click while Wilson is able to say goodbye to the sound of the dial tone. . . .

Well, she was never known for her friendliness as long as he’s known her. Wilson then signs off on additional paperwork before a few consults with patients before lunch. Nothing too bad and he makes a point to see if Smith is still asleep in the lounge before eating. Thankfully, Smith is no longer on the couch and Jones catches him in the hallway saying that she sent him home as soon as he woke up. They chat briefly before heading off to lunch. The rest of Wilson’s day goes quickly, and he notices when the dinner meeting with Eva officially pops up in his calendar.

That feeling of hesitation from the morning bubbles up again; his gut is telling him that this isn’t just some social call or catching up. Her choice of venue indicates more than just a simple professional meeting. Wilson pushes the thought out of his mind, but finally in the garage it is too much, he texts his girlfriend. Normally, he’d ask House for advice, but he’s likely drooling on his bedsheets and he thinks he should clear this with her. Not sure what to say and not wanting to worry her, he sends a vague text for her to call him when she gets a chance.

He then drives home, but not without a grocery stop to make it until the Friday at least. Feeling lazy, he heats up some tomato soup (the fancy kind in a tetrapack, not canned; he has standards) and makes himself a grilled cheese sandwich. With a backlog of laundry, he settles down on the couch to watch TV while waiting to hear back from his girlfriend.

Just after seven, his phone rings and she asks him what’s up. At that point it hits him, Wilson is feeling so odd about this because if this were him a few years ago, he’d have come up with some excuse for his wife at the time. He’d say that he had to work an extra shift when instead, he’d be out to dinner with Eva, no hesitation. But now, he’s making sure that his is okay with her before going.

He thinks about the best way to approach this – he texted her because he wanted her permission? Or was it for her advice? Slowly, he starts; one of the other oncologists from the panel wants to talk to him. Over dinner. At Cloud.

Wilson then takes a deep breath and waits for her reply . . . he doesn’t want to make this more awkward than he thinks it might be. Her reply is swift and blunt, in a rather non-issue sort of way. All she says is “And, you are asking me about this because . . .”

Releasing the deep breath, Wilson relaxes, “Well, I’m telling you because it means I’ll be busy early on Friday and it is Eva. And I honestly don’t know what she wants.” He feels good having said this all aloud to her.

“Hhhrrrmmm. I see your point. Friday evening at a place like Cloud seems rather date-like. Do you think it is date-like?” Her reply is rational and straight to the point.

Wilson ruffles his hair even though he’s alone in his loft living room. “Maybe? I honestly don’t know. It is clear that she wants to talk to me one on one.” He sounds a bit more emotional than he’d like, but his intention is to be clear that he’s not interested in her.

“Well, if this is of a professional nature, you have nothing to worry about. I guess if she’s thinking of hitting on you, I’d say it is rather futile at the moment. You can just use the excuse you need to head to my place after the dinner.” Her reply is so even keeled that he thinks he might be dreaming, but again, a quick pinch to his leg tells him otherwise.

“Okay. That is a good thing to keep in mind, I’ll park near your place and walk there to meet her.” Wilson sighs over the phone feeling more settled. “Thanks.”

She laughs lightly, “No problem, worst case you could always text me and I can come rescue you!” Her joke breaks any remaining doubt in Wilson’s mind as he laughs loudly.

“You can be my rescuer from social awkwardness! That’s hilarious, in a good way.” They laugh and he hears her yawn. “Sounds like I should let you go. Dinner on Thursday?” Wilson is already looking forward to seeing her again and sleeping over before the clinical trial reviewer meeting on Friday.

“Sounds great. Though I’ll be picking the location this time!” She seems excited, she must have found a place and they let each other go.

Wilson is able to relax as he folds his underwear, pulls out his clothing for tomorrow and sighs as he settles into his large empty bed. Only two days till Thursday.

* * *

While wrapping up your report at work you smile to yourself about Wilson’s phone call last night. He was so adorable, he called to ask you about a dinner with the ice queen oncologist. Honestly, you aren’t worried about her seducing him, but it is unusual that she’d want to have dinner and not lunch with him. 

But it wasn’t like she was the most socially inclined person you’d met of his network of oncologists from the industry reviewers. You are relived it isn’t that annoying Matt Jones guy.

The end of the workday approaches and you submit your finally report paperwork with an hour to spare. To reward yourself, you slip off to the greenhouses to check your plants. The room is empty, most of the technicians are done for the day and you bask in the soft orange glow of the sodium lights, their hum the only sound around you. There is nothing like a greenhouse in December. The sun has set by this point; dusk settles over the greenhouse, pretending like it is the middle of summer, the lamps programmed to simulate long days. You close your eyes for a moment smiling as these lamps will be on until ten PM; your plants aren’t approaching the darkest days of winter, as far as they can tell, it is June.

You perform a quick check of the plants, touching the soil to check if it is damp enough, looking over the labels and reconnecting with your babies. The sound of a cart rolling along in the corridor, pulls you out of your daydream and you head back to the office to pack up your bag and head home.

Driving after dark, you think about where you’ll be going to dinner tomorrow night; an Asian place, that despite being a bit random in what cuisine it is trying to represent has yakitori and you’ve been dying for some good chicken on a stick.

Thursday morning, you text the address to Wilson and tell him to meet you there at six-thirty, you want to swing by your place to feed Keith supper before joining him. The place doesn’t take reservations, so whoever gets there first will claim a table. He replies with a smiling emoji and that he’ll do his best.

When you arrive at the place, Wilson is sitting at a small table and he waves you over, there are already two glasses of water and he has a steaming cup of tea. He looks good, navy sweater over a light blue shirt with a blue and yellow striped tie with grey pants. Even more importantly, he gets up to hug you and sneak in a kiss on the cheek. A whisp of fresh cologne tickles your nose and you know he’ll be in a good mood after dinner.

The two of you settle in to order several different orders of chicken; regular with salt, soy sauce and BBQ sauce. You also make sure to order the cheese mochi, even though you really shouldn’t eat more than one (but they are soooo good). To feel like you are trying to be healthy, you get cabbage, some spicy cucumbers and edamame. 

Both of you dig in and quickly enjoy your fill of mainly chicken cooked on a stick. Wilson likes the soy sauce marinated, while you find the BBQ to be that perfect balance of sweet and tangy with an undercurrent of spice. Of course, the cheese mochi ones are the best, but they aren’t chicken. 

Wilson pays the bill while you head to the bathroom. When you get back, he gestures for you to lead and his left hand settles firmly on your lower back, his eagerness pressing through to you. The two of you head to your vehicles and drive back to your place; when he buzzes, you let him in and within thirty seconds he’s rapping at the door, overnight bag and clean suit in hand, leaning in to kiss you even though his hands are full.

You feel emboldened by his forwardness and wrap your arms around his neck making sure to give him a good bit of tongue. This is going to be an early night at the rate things are going and you hum into his mouth.

Wilson finally grows frustrated with his full hands, huffing; he drops his things to the floor to reach out and pull you closer, still wearing his coat, scarf and gloves. As hot as this is becoming, winter clothing is a major impediment to sex, and you pause to get him to remove a few layers and put his items away. Sure, he might be okay with wrinkling his suit at the moment, but come morning, he’ll be fussing about it.

With a necessary pause, Wilson regroups and you take the chance to put some Broken Social Scene on the stereo, ‘Feel Good Lost’ to be exact and you lead him by the tie to your bedroom while Keith sits on the couch, his eyes half open, a content cat loaf.

He eagerly follows you and as soon as you reach the bed, he’s already kissing you and trying to divest you of even more clothing. Spurred on by his forwardness, the two of you assertively push the other on.

Only later do you find yourself laying on top of him as he vacantly stares up at the ceiling while his left-hand fiddles with a few strands of your hair. You sigh into his warm chest and find yourself vocalizing your thoughts. “Imagine what it would be like to spend time together and not always have sex . . .”

A small gasp from Wilson jolts you back to the moment and you realize you just said that – aloud. He’s propped himself up on his elbows as you look at his quizzical face, his lips slightly open, hesitant to say something. Feeling completely embarrassed, you stutter out a follow up statement. “That didn’t come out the way I meant it to. Err. What I mean is I’m not opposed to having sex – but that with our busy schedules.” You pause as his eyebrows are arched up while the rest of his facial expression is neutral. “I mean, I’m just thinking about hanging out, you know. Normally.”

Wilson’s eyebrows continue to stay arched up, but a smile starts to form in the corner of his mouth, and he tilts his head to the side. He looks like he’s about to say something, but his right hand comes to his mouth to cover it as he begins to giggle.

You pull yourself up off of him and sit back as he tries to not make eye contact as he laughs. Between breaths he tries to speak to soften the blow, “Speaking tactfully is not one of your strong suits.” He laughs a little more, “But I can never accuse you of not being clear.” Wilson sighs as he sits up in the bed and brings the covers so that his lower body is nice and warm. He gestures with his left hand for you to come sit next to him, so that he can wrap his warm arm around you, pulling you closer to him.

As he gives you a good squeeze you melt a little into his side before glancing at him, his soft brown eyes content next to you. “Yeah, what I just wanted to say is that, well, I enjoy spending time with you. Your company. It is nice and it is something I haven’t always had a positive experience like this with someone.” You still struggle to convey that ease and eloquence that seem second nature to him, but by this point you know that he appreciates honest conversations even if they are rough around the edges.

Wilson sighs happily and gives you a good side hug, sneaking a kiss on the top of your head. “I understand what you are saying. I enjoy your company, whether it be inside the bedroom or outside. I also recognize that it has been nice to give each other more space; I always went all out in past relationships and it was clear that did not help them in the long term.”

He fidgets a little while looking off into the distance, recalling things you aren’t quite sure of, but likely relate to the numerous failed marriages. He ruffles the back of his head sighing loudly almost resetting himself. “So, with all this in mind, may I boldly propose something?”

The serious tone of his voice immediately gets your attention and you sit up more attentively looking him squarely in the face. He relaxes smiling slightly to communicate that he may have sounded too serious. “We could come up with more of a schedule, when we spend time together. I understand you need your alone time, and I appreciate being able to hang out with House.” Wilson pauses and his eyes dart around slightly as he watches your expression.

You clear your throat, “You mean to propose to spend more of our free time together, on weeknights but still keep some evenings free?” You feel the need to ask for clarification on your understanding of things, so there is no confusion.

Wilson smiles while giving your shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “Yeah. We could just do our normal things; cooking, laundry, reading, whatever – with the other person just around.” He returns to softly smiling . . .

“You mean I can do a load of laundry and you’d be okay with just sitting on the couch?” This comes out with slight hesitation; you’ve never cohabitated with a boyfriend and you value your space greatly.

Wilson’s smile goes from soft to glowing, “Yep. I know it is harder for you to spend time at my place with Keith, so we can keep that to the weekend. I’m willing to spend the night at your place during the week. We can adjust it based on our schedules as needed. When I’m on call, I don’t want to disrupt your sleep.”

You think about his proposed idea; Wednesdays would still be your time, along with Fridays when he’s with House. The two of you have already made Thursday a sort of dinner date night . . . . Really, adding in Monday or Tuesday isn’t much of an extension since he’s frequently at your place on the weekend anyways.

“Okay. We can do this on a trial basis. We will sit down and make sure to check our schedules for the week ahead and determine what to do. If it gets to be too much, too fast, I’ll let you know.” You feel comfortable with this situation; you aren’t trapped in the expectations of the other person in the relationship. To reassure him, you add a little more, “Just keep in mind, if I do ask to slow down, it isn’t that I don’t like you, it is just that I’m **_really_** used to having my own space.” 

Wilson’s response is to wrap you in a big hug, his warm hands lightly rubbing your bare back while his warm chest presses into yours. “I’m not worried about you not liking me. I’m learning to slow down, so yeah, I might feel a little hurt if you ask for space. But I think that is good.”

You are surprised at his admission that this will be hard for him, just like this will at times be hard for you. At a loss for words, you just give him a good squeeze, patting your hands reassuringly on his back. He quietly hums back at you, his hands sliding down your back and slipping under the blankets to grab your bum. It catches you by surprise and you look up at his face his eyes half open, a light trace of a smile across his lips, before he leans down to kiss you. You laugh under your breath; you are still impressed how he’s such a natural when it comes to seduction. . .

His hands guide you to settle in his lap and round two begins. This time it is slow, steady and for lack of a better description, loving. Wilson leads the two of you along gently and when the two of you finish this time, it is just after nine. Keith leaps onto the bed interrupting any potential post-coital snuggling forcing you to brush and feed him.

Right before ten, all three of you settle into bed, Wilson spooning you from behind and Keith wedged between both of your feet. Listening to the soft breathing of Wilson and the warm presence of Keith, you drift off to sleep, ready for the last day of work for the week.

* * *

Wilson blinks a few times as he wakes up before his alarm. Today he has his clinical trial reviewer meeting, lunch with House and after Clinic duty, a mysterious dinner with Eva. He’s still not sure what the purpose of meeting with Eva is, but he can’t say no to her if she is in need of professional assistance. Plus, his girlfriend said the he could use her as an out if it gets weird. Which, the more he thinks about it, is a rather unusual stance for his female significant other; most women would get upset and forbid the meeting, she’s meanwhile like ‘whatever, call me if you need help’ which is unusual.

In the predawn light he rolls over to see Keith curled up in a circle still asleep and watches the gentle rising and falling of his girlfriend. Needing to feel a little more confident for this evening, he snuggles up to her back hoping to transfer some of her ease to him. He nuzzles her exposed neck, feeling comfort in her natural scent. With a tight schedule, he knows he can’t waste any time this morning in the pursuit of physical pleasures. After a few minutes, he rolls back to his side of the bed, turns off the cell phone alarm and quietly gets up, Keith still out cold.

By time he’s toweling off, he can hear the meows of Keith and her footsteps as she goes to feed him breakfast. The bathroom down flies open and he scurries out, allowing her to go to the bathroom before she heads to the kitchen to make coffee and oatmeal for breakfast. The forecast is below freezing today with light flurries. Nothing intense, but a warm breakfast can go a long way. Wilson follows his usual grooming routine, and today he’s got the lavender shirt, a dark purple sweater vest and a grey and purple striped tie. He always likes how the pastel color goes well with his skin tone.

Unfortunately, since he needs to head to his condo before the dinner, he’s unable to drive into work with her, making him feel a little sad, but he knows he’ll be back at her place as quickly as possible after finishing dinner with Eva.

She smiles at him while sipping her coffee for a few minutes before doing her minimal personal care routine. He waits just long enough to see her walk out wearing the cream-colored knit sweater over a dark orange dress shirt with brown plaid pants. Bold, but it works with her style and it looks warm.

Wilson leans in for a kiss on the lips as he announces his imminent departure, before putting on the layers of winter apparel, and heading out the door with his briefcase in hand. She tells him to drive safely and to text him if he has any issues. She’ll be home likely by five thirty. He blushes slightly and lets her know he will. With that he’s out the door and heading to defrost his car and head to the reviewer session.

Having eaten the oatmeal for breakfast, he only has some orange juice and a banana as the teams settle down to discuss their report and conclusions. Wilson occasionally sneaks glances at Eva, but her body language reveals nothing. As the session comes to a close, the industry program officer enters to address the final sessions in the New Year. They will have both groups meet together to compare their reports and generate a final consensus report. This means they’ll be working with the Monday group, which includes that annoying Jones. The company's secretaries will be coordinating with their own hospitals to determine the best dates to wrap up the panel.

Wilson chats briefly with a few of the other doctors as they pick up their personal items before heading out to his car. Most of them seem to be good people and feel that they are making a difference in the field.

He politely excuses himself from lunching with the greater group, announcing he’s got Clinic duty in a few hours. The drive back to Princeton-Plainsboro is uneventful and he watches as light snow flurries flitter around his car, the sun occasionally peeking through the clouds. He drops his stuff off in the office and immediately swings by House’s office. House is flipping through a medical reference text, still stuck on the current case. The rest of the team is eating their lunch while also searching for any potential leads. “Lunch?” Wilson smiles as House’s eyes dart up towards him.

“I thought you’d never ask!” House smirks as he reaches for his cane and stands up walking towards the door to the main office. “I’m off for my lunch with Wilson. Page me if you think of anything.” The rest of his team nod or grunt in reply between chewing their sandwiches and sips of coffee.

Wilson and House then stroll down to the café, Wilson asks him about the current case. House replies it is neurological, but they can’t seem to pin down the trigger. He laments that his current team lacks a by the book immunologist, but that hopefully they will get there by the end of today. He’s annoyed that it means another Friday spent either at work or trying to relax at home, ready to rush in if called.

Wilson gives him a soft pat on the back, they can start planning their next Friday of trashy TV and take-out. Their trays slowly fill up with Ruben sandwiches and a single order of fries between the two of them and of course, Wilson pays. The best friends settle in at one of their favorite corner booths and catch up on things, this week being quite busy for House.

After a large bite of his sandwich, and a mouthful of food, House speaks, “I almost forgot to ask, how was the trip back home for Hanukkah?” Wilson is surprised that House is inquiring this late after things. He’s usually only concerned about personal matters in the moment; but knowing that House sent a letter to Danny, he’s more invested in Wilson’s personal life than before. Or maybe he cares a little bit more.

Wilson sips his Dr. Pepper, fizzy bubbles tickling the roof of his mouth. “It was alright. Danny seems to be settling into a routine; he’s hiking and birding with Dad almost every day.” Wilson then feels that sinking feeling though, sure, his brother is on the road to recovery, but he’s got a long way to go. He looks at House wondering how much to reveal, House dunks a few fries into the ketchup, gesturing for him to go on.

Wilson sighs before continuing, “He’s still got a long way to go; he looked so fragile. He was wearing some of my old clothing from when I was in undergrad and I could feel how skinny he was underneath.” Wilson pauses looking at his plate, “I can’t imagine what hardships he’s been through; he looks old and tired.” Realizing this is the limit of what he’s able to reveal to anyone at this point, he dabs at the corners of his mouth with a paper napkin before distracting himself with another sip of his fountain drink.

House nods along and takes another bite of his Ruben, chewing quietly, currently thinking of what to say back. “Yeah. Well, I’m sure your parents will help him out.” House’s reply is soft and almost out of character for him to the average onlooker. But Wilson knows what this means from House, he’s concerned for him and this is the best (and only way) for him to express his feelings as a friend. In a much more boisterous voice, House continues, “And how is that ‘perfect’ older brother of yours and his 2.5 kids doing?” House’s eyes sparkle in mischief; he’s met Ethan and the parents a few times over the past decade or so to know that Wilson will always see himself competing with him. 

Rolling his eyes and sighing loudly, Wilson gives House some serious shade before continuing, “Ethan is doing fine, along with Michelle and their two kids Sarah and David. Engineers are natural and presenting the appearance of a calm, orderly household.” He doesn’t want to sound too jealous of his brother, cause in a way, he really isn’t, it is just how much grief his Mom gives him about how he’s still unsettled after many attempts to be ‘settled’.

Lightening the mood, he shifts to the time capsule that is his bedroom, “You’ll get a kick out of this; I had to sleep in my old bedroom, which still remains frozen in time since I left for college.” House laughs in response, “Oh that is priceless! The pampered Doctor James Evan Wilson sleeping in a twin bed all alone looking at old pop culture posters still on the walls!” House’s hand slaps his thigh in delight.

Wilson picks up a fry and points it at him, “Oh, you give me more credit than I deserve, I didn’t have any popular posters or artwork up. My Mom decorated the room with paintings of sailboats and clipper ships. My old high school award certificates are still framed over the desk.” House roars in laughter.

“Oh, that is even better than I can even imagine! No wonder you are completely useless at interior design and décor! Tell me more Jimmy!” the grin on House’s face is contagious, egging Wilson on.

“You bet. The nautical map curtains are still hung over the window along with the white, blue and grey bedding and matching dresser. You have no idea how odd it was to talk to my girlfriend over the phone from my old bedroom. If you get my drift.” Wilson quirks up a single eyebrow for emphasis and House is laughing so hard he’s almost crying. 

“Shit Wilson. No wonder furnishing your condo was such an affair for you. Women have been dictating your living environment your entire life.” House is finally able to dab away the tears with some napkins and Wilson softly smiles at him.

He’s right, though. Wilson does not even have a terrible sense of décor; he lack of any sense of décor and it can be traced back to his childhood bedroom. It was such an issue to House, with his carefully curated and decorated apartment; no wonder he turned Wilson inside-out over the issue when they were living together, post-rehab. Yet, no matter how much it may matter to others, Wilson really could care less. Is the couch comfortable and easy to clean and in a calming and neutral color? If yes, it is fine.

A glance to his watch reminds him that he needs to check in with Susan at the Oncology office and head down for Clinic duty. Wilson and House pick up their trays and continue on with their afternoons.

* * *

House is in the main office with all four of his fellows, messing around. Stuck on their current case, he’s desperately trying to distract himself in hopes that he’ll find a breakthrough, or **_someone_** will think of **_something_**. 

They are attempting to do trick shots with a waste basket and pilfered menu from a local restaurant as a backboard to simulate a basketball hoop. The current shot is if someone can sink a crumpled paper ball by sitting at the head of the table, back towards the basket and with their eyes closed. Chase is seated, glancing back over his right shoulder as he tests the range of motion with his right arm.

Just as Chase closes his eyes, declaring it loudly, Taub watches his face, the sound of heels echoes through the corridor, indicating an approach towards the Diagnostics office. Almost on cue, House’s team shuffles to look serious and House clears his throat walking towards the coffee maker to pour himself a cup, innocently. He glances out the clear office wall to see not Cuddy, but an unfamiliar woman. She’s tall, blonde, perfectly proportioned and gives off an icy vibe that permeates into the office. House’s entire team are glued to her, black patent pumps with a red sole, a black wool coat stops just at her knees showing a flash of a black pinstripe suit with a pencil skirt. Her blonde hair is tied back in a ponytail, no loose strands and a designer handbag is over her right forearm. Tailored black leather gloves are held in her right hand as she walks with purpose down the hall. 

Thirteen is the first to speak, “That’s definitely not Cuddy.” Her gaze still fixed on the woman as she passes the edge of the office. “Definitely not.” Taub’s statement highlights that the entire group instinctively have been trained to prepare for Cuddy bursting into the office followed by a cry of “House!” 

“Where do you think she’s going? That is no patient.” Foreman muses what the rest of them are thinking.

Chase keeps looking out into the hallway as her footsteps walk away from them, he laughs to himself, “Well not like she’s interested in any of us.”

“Yeah, she’s certainly a bit too high maintenance for any of us, and Taub is married . . .” House’s voice trails off as his brain puts the pieces together . . . but she’s perfect for someone like – Wilson. He quickly limps over to grab his cane and he’s out the door, quickly making his way to Wilson’s office. It is before five, so Wilson is still in the Clinic, he can interrogate her before he’s back.

House catches up to her as she knocks on Wilson’s empty office door. “Looking for Wilson? He’s got Clinic duty until five.” Using his height, he leans forward into his cane as his clear blue eyes try to determine why she’s here and why she’s looking for Wilson.

The woman turns to him, wrapping her arms in front of her chest. “And if I am looking for James? What are you going to do then?” Her voice is calm, little emotion comes through and she looks like she’s already **_over_** House. He pauses to examine her closely. Her dirty blonde eyebrows are perfectly sculpted over her icy blue eyes. She is wearing make-up but a minimal amount that creates the no make-up-make-up look. A light shadow, some concealer and light mascara. Her boldest part of her appearance is a soft red lipstick, contrasting just enough with her light and cool skin tone. House lastly notices the Hermes scarf, artfully tied around her neck under the pristine, fitted wool coat. She certainly looks financially well off, but appearances can be misleading.

The putative wealthy and fashionable woman, clears her throat getting House’s attention; “I will only ask you one more time, what is it to you that I’m looking for James?”

“Everything!” House bellows his reply at her as she squints her eyes and wrinkles her nose in annoyance. “Wilson, Wilson is” and House is unable to continue as Wilson’s voice comes from behind him.

“Wilson is what?” his best friend asks from behind him. House turns to look at Wilson, revealing the mysterious woman between him and the office door. Wilson’s face goes through the subtle movements indicative of his brain crashing and momentarily ceasing function; House knows that expression well and he usually takes pride in making it happen. 

“Eva? What are you doing here?” Wilson’s voice jumps up an octave at the end, telling House that Wilson is completely confused what is happening.

The woman, apparently with a first name of Eva, relaxes slightly and uncrosses her arms. “Hello James, I was in the neighborhood, so I figured I would swing by to see you before dinner. I can give you a ride as well.”

Wilson turns to the side as his right hand, holding his keys comes up to his forehead as he grimaces to himself. After a few moments of twitching, Wilson sighs with his right hand over his eyes as he centers himself.

Wilson gestures to House, “House, meet Doctor Eva Forrester, an oncologist currently working in Manhattan.” Wilson then gestures to her, “Eva, meet Doctor Gregory House. The best Diagnostician on the East Coast.” 

Eva then moves her gloves and purse to her left hand, now able to offer her right hand to House. He looks at the manicured fingernails as his large rough calloused hand envelops hers. They shake and he notes her firm grip indicating her strength deeper below the surface.

Wilson then addresses her directly, “I appreciate the gesture, but I need to grab my things from my office before heading home. I can meet you at six like we had agreed.” Wilson has returned to his calm, professional exterior and begins to channel his natural way of talking to House and her. “I’m sorry, but I really need to be on my way so that I can meet you on time.”

Eva smiles ever so slightly, “I’ll see you then at six.” She doesn’t even respond to Wilson’s apology that isn’t really an apology. Instead, she nods towards Wilson and steps away from his door and heads back the way she originally came. House finds himself frozen next to Wilson’s door as he quickly opens the office door and gathers up his briefcase and throws his winter coat among other items.

“What the fuck was that?” House looks at Wilson for an explanation as he watches Wilson pack things up. Wilson glances up from under his bushy eyebrows and looks at House with as much confusion as House is feeling. “I have no idea what that was. Eva is one of the other clinical reviewers. She wants to talk to me about something, but I have no idea what it is, okay?”

Wilson adjusts his scarf before he buttons up his coat, “Look, my girlfriend knows about this and I’m to text her if it gets weird. If you want, I can text you too.” The sarcastic remark makes House feel better. Wilson isn’t following his emotional vampire instincts and based on his reaction to her appearance, he wasn’t expecting her to show up at PPTH.

“Fine fine fine. I get it.” House exits Wilson’s office and allows him to lock it behind them. “Buuuut, I still want all of the details by Monday at the latest!” House wiggles his eyebrows for emphasis and Wilson sighs and gives him an epic eyeroll, it looks like things will be alright. Wilson is not chasing after another woman.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And it ends on a professional cliffhanger! Next up, Wilson's dinner with Eva! Stay tuned!
> 
> And man, I could go for some cheap and cheerful yakitori! My food options are woefully sad in my current location (unless you like Mexican/New Mexican). 
> 
> I've been thinking of the Japanese izakaya, Torikizoku (鳥貴族), specifically. I wish they had locations outside of Japan since they are cheap and cheerful and they have the fucking cheese mochi (aka delicious crack).


	27. winter formal with Wilson

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The much hyped winter formal arrives. But before the fluff, Wilson must have dinner with Eva and determine why she's so keen to talk to him over an almost date-like dinner. He'll have to dig deep to sort things out before hanging out with his girlfriend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prepare for the fluff! Just a typical night of educated professionals, dancing the night away celebrating the beauty of an open bar.

The sound of Wilson’s hurried footsteps echo loudly through the parking garage as he glances at the clock. Five-twenty PM. He will just have enough time to swap out his dirty clothes for clean ones before parking on his girlfriend’s block and walking to Cloud from her place.

He is unable to focus on this evening’s news as he can’t believe that Eva came to his office and was expecting to take him to dinner? What does she want from him? She’s even seen him out with his girlfriend. In public. Having food together.

 _What does she want?_ He couldn’t read her expressions, but he’s never been good at reading her to begin with. Tossing his keys in the bowl on the table in his entryway, Wilson walks into his bedroom, not even bothering to take of his coat. Yesterday’s suit is hung on the door for now and he puts all of his dirty laundry into the hamper. He quickly pulls down a t-shirt, jeans and another sweater for tomorrow, smooshing them into his bag. Feeling flustered, he uses the bathroom and splashes a little water on his face. Wilson looks at his reflection. Be cool. Do what you do best, listen to her and figure out what this all about.

With that, Wilson is out the door and finds himself parking his car less than a block away from his girlfriend’s place. He puts his earmuffs on as a few snowflakes flutter in front of the streetlamps.

At six exactly, Wilson opens the door to Cloud to see it packed. It is still fairly quiet for an establishment of its size, but several couples are waiting to be seated before the hostess’s podium. He approaches and states he’s here to meet with Eva Forrester. The hostess smiles, ah yes, Doctor Wilson. Please proceed to the bar, she’s waiting for you there. Wilson thanks her and he takes off his earmuffs and gloves, shoving them in the coat pockets.

Eva is sitting at a table for two in the bar area. Her coat is hung over the back of her barstool and she has a cocktail. When she notices him, she waves curtly at him once and he approaches her. “Good evening. Seems quite busy tonight?” he has decided to ease into things, and he’ll try to see if he can get her to do all the talking. He hangs his coat on the chair as he sits across from her. She stirs the small cocktail straw while she gets the attention of a server. “I guess. My old roommate from undergrad owns this place so I don’t have to worry about a table.”

A tall south Asian server approaches the table and she addresses him, “Vinay, my friend here would like a drink. What do you recommend?” He holds his small notepad in his hands as he nods.

“Certainly Eva.” The server then turns to Wilson, “Would you like beer, wine or a cocktail sir?”

Wilson ruffles his hair on purpose to look hesitant, “I’m thinking of a beer. What do you suggest?” 

Vinay then explains their three craft micro brew options that are on tap, explaining each beers’ flavor profile. With the cold weather, Wilson picks a chocolate stout and thanks the server for his assistance.

He figures he’ll be careful with the alcohol and watch things carefully. Eva then starts speaking about how this reminds them of their specialization training, when all of the young doctors would meet up for drinks at the end of a rotation at the various hospitals in the greater Philadelphia area. The two of them stroll down memory lane over their drinks and he continues to watch her with interest. It was a rather open time in his life; he’d just been divorced by Sam and he met House that summer before the start of his training program. Wilson threw himself into his training to try to get over the hurt from the divorce and when the time came to find a job, House found him at a conference the following summer, tipping him off to a few openings at PPTH that were going to be posted in a few months.

After finishing their drinks, Wilson is more than ready for some food and a very fashionable woman approaches their table. She leans in to lightly hug Eva, “Eva, your favorite table is ready.” Eva nods at the woman, “Thanks Jennifer.” The woman smiles and nods at Wilson, sizing him up. Wilson needs to know more about her, so he offers his hand to her introducing himself. Jennifer politely shakes his hand, explaining that she’s the owner of Cloud and she hopes he’ll enjoy dinner this evening.

Eva than slides off the bar stool in a fluid motion her heels firmly tapping against the floor. She tells Wilson to grab his coat and follow her. All eyes are on her as the click clack of her Louboutins catch the attention of most of the men and women in the bar. Wilson feels invisible behind her, watching the facial expressions of sexual interest, jealousy at her expensive clothing, and then one of surprise when a woman notices him with her.

Wilson blushes as he looks towards the floor and follows her to table at the edge of the main dining room. They hang up their coats and he waits for her to sit before he does. Within a minute, the amazing server from last time he was at Cloud, Christopher, appears and asks if they would like any drinks before he goes over tonight’s menu options.

Eva orders a glass of merlot and Wilson, needing his wits about him, requests a mint tea. He notices the slight twinge of her perfectly trimmed eyebrows before she remarks it is rather unlike him to not order another drink with dinner. Giving his best customer service smile, he explains that his metabolism isn’t quite what it was during their younger days and he’s slowly cut back on his alcohol consumption. It is a half-truth. He still drinks, but they are old enough to know those calories don’t just disappear like in your twenties.

Christopher returns with their drinks and explains the _prix fixe_ menu options. Wilson selects the vegetarian meal with potato and leek soup, quinoa with roasted vegetables and a berry crumble for dessert. He’s surprised to see Eva select the meat option, beef tartare, roasted potatoes with a mushroom and beef stew and a lemon tart. 

Their conversation then turns to a discussion of diet and exercise. Eva found out a few years ago she was severely anemic; her GP sent her to a dietician to correct her eating habits and a personal trainer to make sure she didn’t push herself too hard. She’d been working out seven days a week and it depleted her micronutrients. Wilson settled in to nod along and listen to her issues. Eva slowly gave more details, how her job had become routine and predictable and she started compensating with religious exercise before and after work.

He could only admit that he rarely has time to fit in that much exercise, he hasn’t made use of the gym in his condo building.

Their starters arrive; Wilson sips his soup while she eats the raw beef with a steady pace. Clearly, the two of them have different dietary needs and he is glad that isn’t an issue that he’s faced with at the moment.

She returns their conversation back to discussion of their past, asking him if he knew what happened to the rest of their classmates. Wilson admits that he’s run into a few people at conferences or read an article or two published by someone, but he honestly hasn’t had time to keep up with people. His own life has been busy enough with the day to day operations of being a department head at a teaching hospital. It seems that she’s curious about how his career is going, but that she needs to hear what his own experience is.

Their main dishes arrive and just as he bites into a perfectly roasted brussel sprout, Eva asks him a question that causes him to stop mid-chew. 

“Are you happy with your career choices? Do you feel that Princeton-Plainsboro is where you should be?” Eva takes a bite of a roasted potato, her icy blue eyes boring into his face.

Taking a sip of water to pause and give him a chance to wash some of the sprout down his throat, Wilson tilts his head in thought. _Is he happy with his career choices?_ Well, he definitely let his own personal goals drive some of them, but he feels like his contribution to patient care and the medical profession has been a positive one.

Wilson chooses his words carefully, it has become clear that this dinner is some sort of mid-career consult and/or crisis for her and he doesn’t want to be insensitive.

“Overall, I am content with my career so far. Princeton-Plainsboro wasn’t my number one choice but has met my needs best. The commute was perfect for my relationship at the start and career advancement is transparent.” Wilson ruffles his hair and takes another sip of water, “Sure, the pay isn’t the highest in our field, but it isn’t on the low end either. I enjoy Clinic duty; it allows me work with less serious patients and I like being able to help in the teaching mission. All in all, I’d say it has treated me well.” Nodding more to himself than to her, he returns to eating his lovely roasted winter veggies.

“I see. Even if you have to work with that annoying ass, Doctor Gregory House?” Eva’s facial expression is one of annoyance mixed with a slight hint of pity. 

Stabbing his fork into a carrot with gusto, he waves it in front of her as he replies, “Oh, yes. That annoying ass is my best friend.” Wilson then bites onto the carrot, chewing it while he watches her cool exterior crack slightly.

Finally showing her true intentions, she focuses on eating what is before her for a few minutes in silence. Wilson takes this time to enjoy the roasted vegetables, with that light caramelized exterior surrounding a soft warm center. He finishes his plate before her and takes the lead with the conversation. He asks her if she is looking to pivot her career? There are a wide range of options; moving to general practice, shifting to a heavier research focus, or taking a role in teaching and training.

Her heavy sigh is all that he needs to know to understand that she’s reached a dead end in her current position. For the first time all evening, her polished composure wavers, the corners of her lips showing tension. She finishes her glass of wine and moves it in the line of sight of their server implying she requires a refill.

“James, I appear to have everything. A comfortable practice, personal secretary, time to exercise during my workday. I can afford designer clothing, salon appointments and my Manhattan loft apartment is small, but I **_own_** it.” She smiles as her glass is refilled and she takes another sip. “It is just recently, since this most recent Clinical review, I feel”

She pauses swirling the merlot and looking into it for an answer. “I feel like nothing matters. I’ve treated and cured cancer in many of my patients, but any oncologist could do what I’ve done.”

Wilson smiles at her, his customer smile noticeable only to himself. “It isn’t unusual to reflect on our lives. If we didn’t, we’d be unable to grow and change.”

Before he can continue the familiar sound of a pair of patent heels on the wood paneling interrupts his thoughts. Cuddy and Lucas are being led to a table past him. Wilson pulls his napkin off of his lap, quickly standing up to greet Cuddy and Lucas.

“Pardon me.” He addresses the hostess leading them to the table for his interruption. “Cuddy, Lucas, nice to see you.” Wilson smiles honestly at them and notices how her teal eyes dart to look at Eva, blankly looking at them, before visible emotion appears on Cuddy’s face. “This is my colleague, Doctor Eva Forrester. She’s one of the Clinical reviewers in the same panel as me. She’s currently practicing in Manhattan.” Wilson then gestures to Cuddy and Lucas. “Eva, this is the Dean of Medicine at Princeton-Plainsboro, Doctor Lisa Cuddy and Lucas, her boyfriend.”

Eva hesitantly stands up and greets them with a ‘nice to meet you’ followed by a quick handshake before they reply the same to her and head off to their own table. Her eyes linger on their backs as they continue to walk away.

“She’s very different than I expected.” Eva’s statement refers to Cuddy, but the context is unclear. Wilson asks her how she’s different.

Taking another sip of wine, Eva explains that Cuddy is warmer, more emotional than she had in her mind. Unsure if that is a good or bad thing, Wilson is curious to see how serious Eva is about changing career focus.

The ninja server returns to remove their empty plates and used cutlery before politely explaining he will bring tea along with dessert. Wilson smiles and thanks him, while Eva requests to stick with her current glass of wine.

“I have an idea.” Wilson looks at her closely to watch her reaction. “I’m going to take some time off around New Year’s. Things aren’t as busy over the holidays, but other than that, my day to day schedule remains unchanged.” 

Eva’s eyes narrow as she fiddles with the dessert fork on the linen tablecloth. “Go on.”

Wilson tilts his head and gestures to her slightly with his hands, “You could cover for me. You know, simulate what is like to be me for a week or so. Granted you’d need to make sure you are free during that time and PPTH can’t compensate you in the range you are used to for your efforts.”

Their desserts are laid before them and Wilson’s ginger and honey tea steams off to the side.

He watches as her fork slides into the vibrant yellow lemon tart, clearly a palate cleanser after all of the meat. Eva takes a bite while she thinks.

“Well, my original plans were to spend the winter break from Christmas to New Year’s relaxing at a resort on the Big Island. It wouldn’t be too difficult to fly back a week earlier. I’m sure Matt can find things to amuse himself on his own.” She takes another bite of the tart chewing it softly before she continues. “I’ll have my secretary call yours. We can sort out some sort of arrangement for that time period. I’m not surprised you are working Christmas, but what are your plans for New Year’s?”

Wilson blushes a little ruffling his hair as he enjoys the berry crumble. “Oh, I’m not sure just yet. I’m debating taking my girlfriend to New York for the festivities or heading up to Montreal instead. I’m sure we’ll figure something out soon enough.”

“I see.” Her reply is as calm has her perfectly styled hair, he begins to wonder how she keeps it so neat, what type of product prevents fly-a-ways and frizz?

Wilson then looks at his watch, it is almost eight. “Speaking of my girlfriend, I need to be heading to her place soon. You don’t mind if I ask for the check?”

Eva waves her hand dismissively. “Don’t worry about that, I’m in no rush, I’ll likely have another drink with Jennifer. I can take care of the bill.”

Wilson smiles at her and excuses himself to use the bathroom. He really didn’t need to go, but he needs some time to center himself and figure out how to at least pay for his part of the bill. Walking out of the small hallway where the restrooms are tucked away, he runs into their amazing yet average server.

He quickly speaks with him, mentioning that his colleague will be staying later, but he needs to settle his part of the bill. Christopher is able to let him glance at the small billfold, he owes around fifty, so he pulls out his wallet and hands over three crisp twenties as he thanks him for his assistance. Wilson doesn’t mind paying for a woman he’s interested in, dating or well, House, but the rest of the time he doesn’t like to owe anyone.

Returning to the table he’s able to put on his coat, and scarf, “Well Eva, it was a lovely time catching up with you. Have a pleasant evening and I’ll touch base with you.” He leans down to shake her hand before he heads out. She nods in reply with a simple “Likewise.”

Free to roam, Wilson pauses in the lobby, texting his girlfriend. 

**_Just leaving Cloud now. See you in about ten._ **

He buttons up his winter coat, puts the earmuffs on and lastly his gloves. A cold wind blows into his face ruffling his hair and he inhales the freshness. Few people are out and a flurries dance across the urban landscape as he walks back to his car and girlfriend.

Wilson watches as his breath catches the streetlights and he feels much lighter after that awkward dinner. He’s relieved that Eva isn’t interested in him romantically, but he’s still unclear why she sought him out for professional advice. Wilson is not the most successful of their specialization cohort, but he’s no slacker either. He’s just, average.

Using the fob on his key chain he unlocks the Volvo and pulls his overnight bag out of the trunk before crossing the street to her apartment building. He calls her and she quickly buzzes him up. When he enters her apartment, Keith stands at her feet, mewing at him as she smiles asking him how things went. Her facial expression immediately softens as he smiles back at her, letting her know that things are okay.

They settle on her couch, the TV on in the background as he explains his encounter with Eva starting with her surprise visit to PPTH. She gives his thigh a reassuring squeeze, noting that whatever is bothering her, likely drove her to seek him out early to figure out how to bring things up.

Wilson feels happy to be able to explain things to her and she just listens, a patient third party. He keeps speaking until his words have run out and he feels exhausted after a long day. Wilson lays down along the couch and she snuggles on top of him, pulling the knit afghan up over them.

The travel channel starts a program about the best place in the world for bananas; she makes a random comment that the best bananas she ever ate in her life are on the Big Island in Hawaii. It reminds him of his ideas for New Year’s.

“Hey, I know this is a bit random, but I was wondering if you’d like to go someplace for New Year’s Eve. I have a week off of work around the holiday.” Wilson smiles as he looks at her and she turns to him.

“I haven’t even given much thought to it. Though with Keith, I wouldn’t want to be away for that long.” Her eyes look at him interested but needing more details.

Wilson tangles his left hand in her hair, “Well, I was thinking of heading up to New York. We could get a hotel room, have a fancy and overpriced dinner and watch other people get wasted.” She doesn’t seem like the person who’d be interested in all of those things, so he winks.

“I’m not opposed to heading to the city, though I’m not keen on a loud drunken party. It would be nice though to visit a few of the museums and go shopping. Well, mainly look at things and maybe buy something.” Her answer is close to what he predicted.

“I wouldn’t be opposed to that, though there is a slightly different option. We could go to Montreal instead, but I’d need to have your passport to buy tickets.” He playfully smirks at her and she smiles brightly.

She pulls herself so that her nose is almost touching his, “Oh that is a lovely idea. Montreal is waaaaay cheaper than New York as well.” Her body remains still for a moment before she leans in to kiss him. Wilson has his answer as he slides his hands under her sweater touching her skin above her waist. They begin to make out on her couch, both knowing where things will end.

Later than night, Wilson pulls her close to him in bed feeling content. He asks her if she’d be okay with going to the indoor Farmer’s Market with him and if they should sit down and figure out their new schedule for the next week.

* * *

Your weekend flies by. Wilson begins to incorporate less romantic and more normal activities. The two of you go to the Market to pick up ingredients for cooking the next week’s meals. The winter formal is also this upcoming Wednesday, starting at six-thirty. To make sure you won’t be late you check with your boss on Monday about working an earlier schedule, starting at seven-thirty instead of eight-thirty. She is fine with things as several team members are volunteering at their kids’ schools for the annual holiday party.

Wilson makes it a point to stay over at your place Wednesday, Thursday and Friday even if he hangs out with House. He has errands to run Monday and Tuesday, including making sure his favorite black suit is back from the dry cleaner. You have both of the ‘ties’ at your place and settle on the red one with the floral pattern, but you won’t tell Wilson until he arrives at your place early Wednesday evening. Got to keep him in the dark.

The two of you meet at your place by five to get ready. Keith is fed and Wilson is still amused by his love of fruits and veggies. Wilson follows his normal grooming routine, while you wash your face and apply dry shampoo. Both of you do your best to share your cramped bathroom and he sneaks a kiss on your neck as you try to get him to refocus. You intend to do a minimal make-up routine and he’s not helping at the moment.

The whirl of his high-end blow dryer turns on as you apply perfume and deodorant. You wear a simple lacy black bra, warm knit tights with red highlights making a diamond pattern. As usual you don’t have matching underwear so it looks like it will be light pink cotton briefs (which are comfortable).

You pull the recently dry-cleaned dress (which wouldn’t have needed it if it weren’t for Wilson) over your head and enter the bathroom after the dryer has stopped. He’s now wearing his dress shirt a very light shade of blue, boxers and socks. Finishing up his facial grooming, he adds a spritz of cologne and you push him out to put on his suit before you reveal the tie. 

With a slightly unsteady hand, you apply the dark red liquid lipstick, dust a little powder on your face cutting down on any greasy sheen and you add a light amount of soft red eye shadow and mascara. All set, you exit to find Wilson drinking a glass water in the kitchen all dressed _sans_ tie.

You smile at him, “You ready for me to pick the tie.” His pupils become large as he looks at your make up before swallowing in anticipation. “Shit, you even decided to wear the dark red lipstick.” His nostrils flare slightly, and you gesture to him to follow you to your bedroom as he sits on the edge of your bed, eager for your attention. It stirs you up and you feel yourself being turned on by the power, you will wield tonight.

Turning to your dresser you decide to pull out both ties at the last minute to compare to his shirt. You originally were thinking red, but maybe the black floral pattern one would work as well. Wilson fidgets slightly as you hold each one up before his shirt comparing how they look. The second one does compliment the light blue shirt well, almost too well that you stick with the red one.

Lightly wrapping it round his neck you pull him closer to you, looking into his lively eyes, bending down to eye level with him. He takes a quick breath as he licks his lips. “You are going to wear this tie tonight. Don’t forget for a minute what I’m going to use it for later tonight.” You pull back slightly and he swallows again. “You understand?”

He nods, “Yes. I understand.” As you straighten up, you shake off the feeling to just skip the winter formal and tie him up right now. The two of you then put on your dress shoes, coats and you take a small purse with enough space to fit your phone, wallet, keys and lipstick. Wilson drives to the venue, a small banquet hall at a local boutique hotel. Well, small is relative since the entire regular staff of Princeton-Plainsboro is there; doctors, nurses, technicians, secretaries, accountants, cleaning staff. Wilson parks in the nearby garage and offers his arm to you as you enter the hotel and head to the banquet hall. Outside there is a large table were several women are handing out programs and table assignments. 

An impeccably dressed Asian woman with a poinsettia broach excitedly greets you. “Good evening Doctor Wilson! I see you’ve brought your girlfriend.” Fluidly, she looks at a list and smiles at you by greeting you by your full professional title barely missing a beat.

You smile and thank her. She introduces herself as Susan Ngo, the secretary for the Department of Oncology, and she hands both of you a program. There is a coat rack to the left upon entering the room and you are seated at table number 10. Both of you thank her and Wilson’s left-hand lands on your back as you enter the main room. Tables form a U-shape with a parquet dance floor in the middle, a live band setting up next to it and a small podium for whatever speeches are to be made.

Wilson takes your coat and he hangs it up for you before placing his next to yours. You wind through the tables until you find number 10. Several people are already seated, a tall skinny man with slightly chaotic brown hair, a casual but polished younger black woman, and then a couple; a petite Asian woman with a what you can only describe as a generic white guy.

Wilson introduces you to the rest of the table, minding his audience to use your official title of Doctor, “The Department of Oncology, Doctors John Smith, Martha Jones, and Yi Liu. Mark is Liu’s husband and they just had their first kid a few weeks ago, Alex.” You take the chance to go around the table shaking everyone’s hands and congratulate Yi and Mark on the birth of their first child.

Two more spots are still empty at the table as everyone settles into small talk. You wonder who else could be joining you, but as soon as you state it, you have a good guess who else would be placed at the table. . . since table 11 has all of the research fellows on House’s team; Taub is there with a woman, his wife perhaps, Foreman and Chase are arguing about something, and the doctor nicknamed Thirteen is there with her date. Nurse Singh is also at the table and another woman you don’t recognize. 

As if on cue, House announces his arrival to the table, the bass player from the swing band wearing a pants suit and a loose faux necktie. She smiles and shakes everyone’s hands. You glance over to the table with the Diagnostics team to see all of his fellows staring in disbelief except for Chase who leans over to whisper something to Singh and they smile to each other.

One of the secretaries from the table taps the microphone on the podium to announce that the bar is now open, and that dinner will be served at seven. The Dean of Medicine will have a short speech and after dinner, the dance floor will be open along with the bar until ten PM. There is also a small area with props for taking photos. 

House stands up and asks his date, Sal, what she’d like. He then says “Wilson, and nods in the direction of the bar.” Wilson stands up and turns to you. You ask for a rye and ginger and he smiles as he heads off to the bar with House. Jones asks Smith if he’d like anything and he asks for an ice tea if possible. She bumps into a few of the fellows from House’s teams and they chat as they enter the queue. 

You chat with the rest of the table about the basics, where you work, where you were before here etc. House announces their return by singing ‘Hail, Hail, the Gang’s All Here’ while Wilson precariously carries three of the four drinks in his hands. With a flourish and a bow, House puts the seven in seven before Sal as she smiles at him. Meanwhile, Wilson’s brow is furrowed in concentration as he places the three glasses gently on the white tablecloth. He hands a gin and tonic to House, moves his whisky sour next to his place setting and then hands you the rye and ginger.

Drinks in hand, you all collectively say ‘cheers!’ before taking your first sip. The fizz of the ginger ale lightly tickles your nose and the table settles into quiet chatter. Wilson is seated next to House and the two of them huddle close and whisper to each other, pulling back to occasionally giggle like schoolgirls. You smile and turn to talk to Smith and Jones. They reply with friendly British accents before the sound of Cuddy’s heels cross the dance floor to the podium.

A hush spreads across the room and by time she’s reached the podium, she commands the entire room. Thankfully, she doesn’t intend to have a long or boring speech. Instead, she makes a few humorous remarks to relax the crowd and spends the time thanking everyone for their service and the growth of Princeton-Plainsboro in the region. She then recognizes all of her department heads asking them to stand up. Wilson ruffles his hair and pulls House up as he groans. The rest of the group applauds, and House makes the quippy remark that he’s glad she didn’t point them out by name. You catch a glimpse of Diaz off in the distance, likely seated with the ER team members.

Unfortunately for House, Cuddy does want to briefly introduce any of the new hires and she quickly reads through a list of nurses, lab technicians and then doctors, including Jones at your table. Within a few minutes, she’s introduced everyone and tells other people to connect with them in the new year.

The impressive Doctor Lisa Cuddy, then introduces the live band behind her and announces that dinner is to be served and for everyone to enjoy themselves. Again, everyone claps and at seven exactly, undergraduate aged waitstaff emerge with platters full of various entrees. 

A plate with cheese ravioli is placed before you with a basic side salad, some steamed vegetables. You glance over to see Wilson has the same thing, he leans in and whispers to you, “I picked the veg option, since it was either pork or beef otherwise.” You nudge him with your elbow, “This is fine, thanks.”

The room is filled with the constant din of cutlery on plates, the clanking of water glasses and soft conversation as most people are focused on getting the food into their mouths and subsequent stomachs. The food is nothing remarkable, but better than the catered chicken of your previous employer (really, the same over cooked chicken for several years in a row did become quite tiresome). Jones mentions she’ll be visiting her family over the holidays in London, and Liu’s partner whose name you’ve already forgotten, asks her where they live. 

House is talking music with Sal between giant bites of the roast beef, and they dive deep into some sort of musical theory losing the rest of the table. The band begins to play soft jazz and people slowly finish their plates while others head to the bar for another drink. This time you stand up; you first need to use the bathroom and ask anyone if they want a drink, and Wilson requests another whisky sour with a wink. 

In the bathroom you are able to check your make-up, still looking good and a quick touch up of your lipstick is more than sufficient. You make your way to the line for drinks as House ambles up behind you. He nods before speaking, “You picked out Wilson’s tie tonight. It matches your tights.” You tilt your head to him in thought, it wasn’t your intention to color coordinate with him. Reaching the bartender, you request another rye and ginger and whiskey sour, before you reply to House’s statement.

Placing a five dollar bill in the tip jar, you turn back to House, “I didn’t really think about it, these are festive tights and the red tie looked better than the floral one.” The bartender places both drinks down and you turn to pick them up. 

House leans over you and asks for two lime seltzers with a slice of lemon, dropping a few crumpled dollar bills into the jar. He wiggles his eyebrows, hoping you can carry one of the drinks back for him. Thankfully you are able to palm your and Wilson’s drinks and hold one of House’s non-alcoholic drinks. 

“I’m not sure if you want to know the full details surrounding Wilson’s tie this evening. It is best to not press him on the issue, if you get my drift. Plus, I could tell the rest of the table you’ve already switched off the alcohol.”

House laughs in reply, “Shit, you don’t hold back to you. Thankfully, Wilson has never given me the details of his personal life. I had to get that information from an ex-wife, and she didn’t even tell me that much. Just enough that I don’t want to know **_that_** much about his skill in the bedroom which is apparently **_well above_** average.” He shrugs his hand holding the glass while leaning into his fancy cane. 

You laugh back, “Well, that sounds reasonable enough. You have no idea what I know about my best friend’s sex life.” House looks at you for a moment, “You’re serious, you do know more details than you should.” You smirk back as you reach the table, placing one of House’s drinks down before handing Wilson his. A roar of laughter explodes from the fellows table as Foreman hangs his face in his hands while the rest of the group laugh about something embarrassing, he revealed. Foreman quickly recovers and removes his jacket to show a well-tailored vest while standing and points to Chase to meet him on the dance floor.

“Looks like the kiddies have initiated a dance challenge. I hope Foreman knows what he’s up against with Chase.” Wilson sips his drink and a stray hand lands on your knee under the table while he places a bet with House.

Within a matter of minutes, the men have bet one hundred on who will be voted the better dancer of the pair. Chase offers his hand to Singh and they swiftly move to the floor to warm up with low key swing footwork. Foreman offers his hand to Thirteen and she curtly nods to him as they start out with what looks like a waltz. A crowd of inebriated medical professionals’ forms around the edges, cheering for who they prefer. It becomes clear that both men are tied and after about ten minutes with no difference, they abandon their partners and Chase and Foreman to dance together to the delight of onlookers. 

“Fuck, now what do we do?” House spits out his comment before he looks at Wilson who shrugs, “I guess it is a tie so we both get to keep one hundred bucks.” 

He then stands up and removes his suit coat and rolls his dress sleeves before offering his hand to you. “Shall we? We can’t let them get all the attention.” You take one last sip of your drink feeling as relaxed as you can; he then leads you to the dance floor. Wilson smiles as he leads you through basic swing steps and Chase and Foreman spin back out to their original partners. With Singh, Chase begins to show off more, leading her through a few flips and rolls. Wilson turns up his charm in response and you let him embellish his moves as you stick the basics a novice. Almost as though a switch is flipped, people of all ages flood onto the dance floor and the band plays more jazzy swing as older doctors disco, oblivious to the current beat. Wilson laughs and he pulls you close for a slow song and you rest your head on his chest as you look at the crowd of nerds around you. 

When the band begins playing Glenn Miller, Wilson looks at Singh and they begin to dance closer until they wink at you and Chase while instantly flipping partners and boldly dancing their way into the center. You and Chase shrug and the two of you dance working on the basics. In contrast Wilson and Singh go for their three minutes of fame. Only then do you notice that House and Sal have joined the live band on guitar and base, respectively. House and Sal are smiling as they play, watching the full dance floor from their small stage. After impressing the hell out of all their colleagues, Singh and Wilson take a bow and make their way back to you and Chase. Wilson is beaming and sweaty and you reach up to adjust his tie. “Don’t forget, we still have later tonight.” Your fingers just ghost over his bare neck and he glances at the floor before he pulls you in for a kiss while slow dancing trying to distract both of you.

The band takes a break, and another secretary points out that the desserts are now out; also, that people should take an advantage of the selfie spot! Wilson wipes a thin line of sweat from his brown and you both decide, no more alcohol for the rest of the evening. The dessert buffet is full of fruit platters, short bread cookies, snowballs, and more pastries for as far as the eye can see. With your small plates with a mix of fruit and a few cookies, Wilson leads you back to the table where now a few of House’s fellows are chatting with the oncologists. They seem to be surprised with House’s guest appearance in the band, but agree it is a good thing, since dancing hasn’t been possible for him for over ten years.

Almost on cue, a bit of chocolate is stuck on the tip of Wilson’s nose and you point it out to him. He neurotically uses a napkin to wipe vigorously, removing it. He excuses himself to the bathroom and you have a chance to talk more normally with the rest of House’s team, besides Chase and your one encounter with Thirteen in Philly. They ask you how you met Wilson and you again explain how you recently moved to the area.

Wilson returns and motions for you to come with him. Taking you by the hand he leads to the small photo booth area which has a generic winter theme and various holiday and winter props to hold up while standing before a fake ‘frame’. “Come on, we need to take a serious and a silly picture.” You hesitate, but Wilson seems keen on the idea, so you walk into the area with him. He hands his phone off to a young staff member who smiles softly at him.

Wilson pulls you to his side for the ‘serious’ picture where the two of you look back through the frame for several pics. Wilson dashes out and checks the staffer finding two where you aren’t blinking. He then picks up a Santa hat and mustache on a stick for his props and you select a top hat and bowtie for Frosty the snowman. This time the two of you say ‘cheese!’ and make exaggerated poses. Wilson politely thanks the young man for his assistance as the two of you laugh at the more successful silly photos. You have to admit, one of the more serious photos tugs at you, Wilson is beaming, and you managed to have one photo where you softly smile and aren’t blinking. For good measure, he immediately sends the pictures to you and you aren’t even sure what to say back to him.

Feeling emotional (though not really showing it outwardly) and stimulated from the banquet, you take a break to use the bathroom and settle down in the lobby outside of the room. You make sure to tell Wilson where you are going and where to find you. He smiles and gives you a good pat on the back and heads off to socialize with other people, likely something important for him to do, networking and reconnecting with other coworkers.

The bathroom is quiet and calming, the opposite of the busy banquet room, full of people having a great time, but likely on the path to a hangover tomorrow morning. You take your time before walking into the main lobby. A modern looking fountain is in the small atrium and water makes soft gurgling noises. There are a few small benches set around the fountain, nestled between potted plants and equally modern architectural elements. Ambient music plays from hidden speakers, barely audible and you sit down on one of the benches and take a moment to relax. The calm environment is the complete opposite of the large, loud, dimly lit banquet room. You close your eyes and take in the atmosphere around you feeling at ease.

You barely notice the sound of footsteps approaching you on the fake marble tile and only when someone sits down next to you on the bench to you notice them, well him. Wilson wraps his arm around your shoulders, with his signature soft smile. “Hey. Thanks for telling me where you’d be.” A blush starts on your cheeks and you look down fidgeting while looking at his basic, yet fashionable shoes.

“I just needed a break from things.” You pull your hair back around your ear as you look at him, hoping you don’t seem too weird. He gives you a good squeeze and sneaks a kiss on your cheek.

“It’s okay. Things are getting pretty wild in there. Even Cuddy is on the dance floor and she is not taking any prisoners.” Wilson smiles as he ruffles his hair before turning to you. He pauses for a moment before his hands reach out to gently hold your face as he kisses you in the relative privacy of the artificially arranged indoor garden. Surprised, you grasp his thigh with one hand while the other wraps around his back. 

For an indeterminate amount of time, the two of you make-out on the bench until the sound of giggling and high heels catches both of you by surprise. Two random twenty somethings from the banquet have drunkenly stumbled into the space and you look to the floor while Wilson glances away from them, both of you blushing. After clearing his throat, Wilson stands up and offers his hand to you. “Shall we return to the dance floor?” He shakes off whatever awkwardness remains completely composed.

Following his lead, you take his hand, “We should.” And the two of you directly make it back to the entrance to the banquet room. At the same time, both of you look back at the drunken couple now making out in full view of any passerby and giggle as you return to the dance floor.

Leaning over to whisper in your ear, Wilson suggests that you stick around for one more set with the live band and then head out. He doesn’t want to stay to late with your additional plans. You smile that it sounds like a great idea and sneak in a light slap to his ass.

Like any organization of highly trained professionals and an open bar, things have become wild. Medical personnel are dancing with little inhibition, laughing loudly or taking advantage of the large dessert table. The live band continues to play a mix of jazz and swing and the two of you float back onto the dance floor, but less concerned about technique as half of them wouldn’t notice by this point anyways. Wilson glances at his watch letting you know it is just after nine-thirty while you slow dance. Looking up at him you mouth the word ‘soon?’ and he nods and smiles back.

He leads you closer to the band off to the side of the dance floor; once close enough to the band, he nods towards House. House mouths something to Wilson. You aren’t able to make it out, but Wilson laughs aloud and looks off to the side before making a quick wave to his best friend. With that he leads you off of the dance floor. He helps you put your coat on and offers you his arm as you quietly depart in the background.

The winter cold hits your face as snow has begun to silently fall, a quiet hush compared to the loud and energetic banquet room. And then the tension begins to build for what you intend to do upon return to your apartment. Wilson is quiet, you see your breath and his swirl with the snow around you. You don’t say anything, it would break the transition from the festive banquet to the stark winter silence.

You appreciate that Wilson isn’t trying to fill the silence, and he understands how it is important to you in this moment. The ride back to your place is warm and the sound of a world music program plays on low volume over the radio. Knowing that you are to dictate the direction of the rest of the evening, you finally speak as Wilson puts the car into park and turns off the engine.

You chose your words carefully, “Before we get out of the car, we need to establish our ground rules. In retrospect we should have discussed this before now, but I haven’t done this very often.”

Wilson nods at you and smiles. “That’s okay. You have more, ah, experience in this matter than I do.”

Taking a deep calming breath, you begin, “First off, if there is something that you are uncomfortable with you need to tell me. We aren’t in the range of needing safe words, but I’ll just keep checking in with you.”

Wilson nods, “That sounds good.”

First hurdle cleared, you move onto the second item, “This is what I’d like, once we enter the apartment, I want you to do whatever I say. Is this okay with you?”

Slightly pensive, Wilson thinks for a moment, “Okay. Though, no degrading or insulting language. I don’t like that type of negativity in the bedroom.”

He brings up a fair point, you weren’t even thinking of that, but since this is new, you are happy that he’s talking about this. You smile, “Don’t worry, I’m not a fan of that either. I just want to give you direction, not use anything to make either of us feel uncomfortable.” And with that you feel like this is more than enough sexual adventure for the time and you nod, letting Wilson know you are good.

He ruffles his hair, “So, that’s it?”

You smile and nod, “Yeah. This will be enough for now.” And lean in to give him a soft kiss on the lips. After pulling back, you open the car door and Wilson follows your lead.

Butterflies fill your stomach as you open the door to your apartment. As you walk through the door, you clear your throat testing your authority. “Doctor Wilson. You are to take off your shoes, remove your winter clothing and use the bathroom if necessary. Then sit on my bed and wait for me to enter.”

Wilson nods, “Yes.” And he silently hangs up his coat and you deal with Keith. Even after you hear Wilson use the bathroom and head into your bedroom, you wait, drawing out the tension. With a languid touch of laziness, you enter the bathroom, and look into the mirror. _This is actually happening. You are going to have your way with him_. Centering your resolve, you exit to find Wilson sitting on the bed his hands loosely intertwined on his lap.

Making sure you won’t have a feline voyeur of your activities, you shut the bedroom door and approach Wilson.

“Doctor Wilson, shall we begin?” and with that you lean forward to look into his curious chocolate brown eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here we have it folks, the winter formal has happened with fluff and good feels all around. Some of the wildest nights of my career have been at conferences or meetings that also had open bars. You truly get to witness the release of what can only be described as 'nerds go wild'.
> 
> Also, if you ever have the chance to go to Hawaii, you must eat the bananas! They are much smaller than the standard Cavendish, orange in color and taste like nothing else! I dream of greater banana genetic diversity in the mainstream grocery stores of North America.  
> 
> 
> A smutty side chapter of Wilson literally tied up is now available under the 'Carefully Calibrating' side-series, chapter 7. Enjoy!


	28. Christmas time is here . . .

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Christmas arrives! Wilson's girlfriend heads home after the winter formal, while he hangs out with House for one of the highlights in the Christian calendar. House and Wilson settle down for a repeat of Chinese take-out and beer for Christmas as emotions are brought to the surface.
> 
> Lastly, House prepares himself for his trip 'home' to visit his Mom and he spends some time in the car with Chase.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I've been a bit distracted for the past few weeks. Work was crazy busy and then I was sucked into the drama that is known as election day. Which drug out into election day(s) and I went through the emotions of; dread to anxiousness to this might be okay, to this is looking better to holy shit female vice president elect!
> 
> The smut for chapter 27 is complete; with all the above events, it was hard to write some good sex scenes when the fate of your system of government was on the line in the middle of a global pandemic and the current administration has decided that pandemic policies aren't at all linked to the economy. . . .

Wilson wakes up to the sound of his alarm, having almost overslept the morning after the Princeton-Plainsboro Teaching Hospital winter formal. His left arm flails as he’s able to find his phone and silence the alarm. Next to him, his girlfriend makes a groan as she pulls more of the blankets around her and Keith stirs thinking about breakfast.

Stumbling half asleep out of the bed and into the bathroom, Wilson rubs his sleepy eyes recalling last night’s extracurricular activities. It was his first time really letting her have complete control of him and it was interesting. . . however, he’s not awake enough to really have a reflection on the sex last night and he hopes House doesn’t pry at work today.

Moving slowly in the kitchen, he feeds Keith and puts on the kettle to make coffee and some oatmeal. Due to the formal last night, many of the staff have a later start today in part to make sure the staff aren’t feeling the ill effects of the open bar. Wilson doesn’t need to show up until nine-thirty, but thanks to her plans, he didn’t overdo it with the alcohol. He doesn’t need to rush out the door today.

Her alarm clock goes off and a loud smack to the snooze bar turns off the local NPR station for the next nine minutes. The next time the alarm goes off, it is followed by a shout of “Oh shit!” and he hears her leap out of bed and into the bathroom. Well it appears that she must still have to be at work at her usual start time . . . 

His girlfriend enters the small kitchen looking a bit frazzled as Wilson calmly sips his coffee, his oatmeal steaming before him. She relaxes as she sees the breakfast ready and waiting for her and she smiles at him. “Thanks. . . I totally forgot that today is Thursday after all the action last night. I have some early morning meetings, which it appears you don’t.” She settles into the chair opposite of him hot cup of coffee in one hand, and oatmeal in the other.

“I don’t have to report to work until nine-thirty. Cuddy adjusted all of the schedules to account for the event and we had volunteers who left early or stayed on shift during the formal.” Wilson shrugs unsure of what else to say. And it really doesn’t matter as she focuses on eating breakfast quickly. After finishing her coffee and oatmeal, she rinses them off in the sink and deposits them with a clatter. “I’m going to use the bathroom and get dressed – feel free to take your time and just make sure to lock up when you leave.” She’s off in a blur to do her minimal morning routine. 

Dressed and ready to go, she leans in to give him a quick kiss on the cheek, “I’ll be done with work around five. I’m pretty tired from yesterday so I’m fine with a chill evening.”

Wilson smiles as he turns to her, “No problem. I’ll make something light for supper instead.” She grunts in reply and is out the door in a rush. As he pours himself a second cup of coffee he smiles as he swirls the milk in; she’s left him alone at her place with little concern and a yawn escapes from him as Keith struts by to get comfortable on the chair. Humming to himself, he goes about his normal morning routine and dressed in his weekday finest, Wilson heads into work. 

Swinging his briefcase, he walks by the main desk and greets Brenda along with the staff with a smile. “Mornin’ everyone.” His good mood is obvious, and Brenda smiles back, “Good morning Doctor Wilson.” Thankfully, Brenda doesn’t say anything else as he flips through the messages at the main desk and he heads up to his office taking the stairs. Wilson carefully hangs his coat on the rack and logs into his computer to check his schedule before putting on his whitecoat and checking in with Susan.

As expected, Susan is put together wearing a blue and white snowflake themed outfit with a knit sweater and comfortable looking pants. She greets him cheerfully, “Morning Doctor Wilson! I see you are in earlier than your expected start time.” Wilson ruffles his hair and smiles with an added shrug.

“Morning Susan. I ended up leaving the formal a little after nine-thirty, so it wasn’t a wild night for me.”

Susan smiles broadly, “Yes, it certainly was quite the party. I was amazed at how Doctor Cuddy had the stamina to dance until the band had to stop! Oh, and it was nice to meet your girlfriend. She seems,” and Susan pauses for a moment, “seems different than your last girlfriend. Calmer, more relaxed.”

Wilson laughs lightly as he tilts his head thinking about Susan’s observation. He agrees with her and the two of them spend the next few minutes exchanging minor gossip about what they witnessed last night. When ten minutes have passed, Wilson glances at his watch and uses it as his excuse to head out on his rounds.

As he finishes up a consult a few minutes before noon, he stretches out in his office chair before standing. Leisurely, Wilson saunters over to House’s office and knocks on the glass while leaning into the door. House’s face lights up as he tells Wilson to give him a minute to finish an edit on his grant proposal and Wilson hangs back in the doorway. A glace to the side shows the Diagnostics team slugging through paperwork and charting for insurance and billing. Instead of it being all dumped on a single soul, like Cameron, the entire team is doing it with equal sized piles. Coffee cups and pastries from House’s favorite bakery are on the table. Could it be that House brought the treats as an **_incentive_** and **_thanks_** to his team for keeping their paperwork on schedule? Wilson then turns to House who barks at him to stop daydreaming as he stands up from his desk and leaning into his cane walks towards the exit.

Once settled in a small table in the cafeteria, the best friends chat about the winter formal. House takes the lead in the conversation and talks about the song program and how he was the person who booked the band with the help of Sal. It feels nice to just sit back and watch House enjoy something other than being miserable or making others miserable. 

While sipping his Dr. Pepper, House changes the topic. “How was your night of sexual deviance last night?” Wilson gasps mid-sip and spends the next thirty seconds coughing as the pop goes down the wrong pipe and also up his nose.

Finally, able to breathe, he wipes his mouth with the tiny paper napkins from the silver dispenser and clears his throat. Wilson leans closer to House and his voice drops close to a whisper, as he glances back and forth to make sure no one else is watching them.

Ruffling his hair, he sighs before starting, “Well, you see, it really was going well.” He pauses for dramatic effect, “You know, were there’s just that – chemistry.” House’s clear blue eyes open further as his pupils become larger and he leans forward, elbows coming to rest on the table. 

“Chemistry, you say, Wilson? Define it.” House is waiting to see how much detail his best friend will reveal about his sex life.

Wilson feigns shyness and glances at the table for a second before answering, “It was just incredible House. I have never felt that way, but I will say, I had to ask her to stop once she poured the hot wax from the scented candle on my chest.” Glancing back and forth he then continues, “I mean, that was just a waste of a high-quality lavender candle!”

House gasps and makes a shocked noise. “You let her pour hot wax on your naked body and you had to stop because it was a hoity-toity twenty-dollar candle? Wilson, you are unbelievable!”

Wanting to see how far he can take it, Wilson quirks up one eyebrow playfully and gestures with his right hand for emphasis. “I’m not opposed to the act _per se_ , but you know. I do have standards of use when it comes to organic soy scented candles.”

Taking the bait, House licks his dry lips before running his hand over his face. “This puts you in a new light; what else did you do?”

Leaning back in his chair and confidently putting his hands behind his head, Wilson smugly looks back at House, “How long have you known me that you think I’ll divulge the details of my sex life to you?” He just keeps grinning at House as his face goes through minuscule shifts.

“Wilson! You didn’t do that. Did you?” House looks as confused as he did a few years ago when Wilson spent several minutes of their lunch first telling him that he slept with Cuddy, and then denied it, admitted it and then told House he was pulling his leg.

“Wait a minute! This is the exact same facial expression and body language you used when you tried to convince me that you slept with Cuddy!”

Wilson only wiggles his eyebrows in response not giving a clear indication. “Did you know that there are more uses to ties than just as a clothing accessory?”

House groans and points animatedly back at him, “You are lying! I’m not falling for this; you started with something so crazy that when you make it sound more reasonable, I’ll accept it as what happened in bed last night. Pppffffftttt! Nice try Jimmy.”

Quick footsteps of a low-heeled shoe catches their attention as Thirteen approaches with a chart under her arm. Both men look at each other and wordlessly know that lunch is now over with a new case for the Department of Diagnostic Medicine. Thirteen quickly goes over the patient’s current vitals and Wilson tosses in a few suggestions before House heads back to start the differential with his team.

The rest of the day goes quickly, and he signs off on the paperwork to allow Eva to cover his duties during the New Year break. He swings by the grocery store to pick up ingredients for veggie wraps and a light soup with a brief stop at his condo before heading to her place. Sure enough, she texts him that she’s home and he can head over whenever, but sooner and with food is preferred.

* * *

Yawning, you find yourself trying to stay awake for the morning’s meeting, but you are able to power through. Your sleepy mind keeps thinking about everything last night; the formal, dancing, all the intoxicated medical professionals. And then there was the sex last night. You blush and fidget in your seat waiting for the meeting to wrap up.

Zhou briefly chats with you as everyone exits the conference room. He compliments you on your dancing skills and you of course, tell him you aren’t skilled at all. That skilled one is Wilson. Politely you ask if he enjoyed the evening with his partner, the head nurse of the ER, Diaz. While the two of you briefly chat, Matt of the nerd gatekeeper duo, overhears your conversation. 

“Oh, where were you guys last night? I heard something about dancing?” Matt forges his way into your conversation, and it is clear that neither Zhou nor you are good at situations like this.

Shifting between your feet you bluntly state the fact, “There was a winter formal for the Princeton-Plainsboro Teaching Hospital last night. Zhou’s partner is the head nurse in the ER and my boyfriend is the department head for oncology. We were just discussing the evening’s events.” Thankfully, Zhou nods along with your statement for emphasis. He repeats the earlier part of your conversation that there was a live band and dance floor and that you were one of the people on the dance floor.

Matt glances back and forth between the two of you before he makes a reluctant shrug. “I see. Well, I should get going.”

With that he turns on his unfashionable heels and shuffles off to the lab leaving you and Zhou confused. After a few seconds the two of you sigh in relief and head back to your desks or the lab.

The rest of the day chugs along and you feel the exhaustion from the night before as you drive home. Keith is thrilled to see you, meowing in excitement as you scoop his kibble into the bowl and chop up a few slices of cucumber. A quick text to Wilson lets him know it is fine to come over and you are hungry.

A short time later, he arrives his hands and arms full, but by this point you aren’t surprised at his large amount of items he’s balancing for a heterosexual male. More importantly, he’s brought food for supper. Reliving him of the burden of the grocery bag, he sneaks in a kiss before putting his personal items away for the time. 

You reheat the light vegetable soup in a pot and pull out the smattering of items for the wraps; various pickled items, hummus, soft goat cheese and pre-chopped carrots and broccoli. Wilson smiles as he enters the kitchen to help, pulling out plates and bowls before rolling his sleeves up above his elbows.

As the two of you customize your wraps, Wilson enquires about your day. Despite feeling tired, you explain that you powered through and Zhou was his usual analytical self but helped deflect the annoying guy. Wilson is honestly not surprised by Zhou, he always got the vibe that he’s a very calm and even keeled person. Even if his partner is a little on the gossipy side of things, he admits his own nurse dating habits of the past made him an easy topic of hospital gossip and Diaz wouldn’t want him distracting her teams. While pouring the steaming hot soup into the bowls with precision, he sighs that it really was his own fault but he’s glad that he’s not in a situation where he’s dating someone from work. Settling down across the table you take a huge bite into your wrap and immediately the contents spill out onto your plate.

Laughing, you admit that you are the worst person at making any sort of wrap from burritos to roti since you always over stuff it and it explodes onto your plate. Wilson smiles as he takes careful bites into his smaller and reasonable sized wrap. The next few minutes are focused on eating and as you endeavor to eat what remains of your wrap, you finally are able to ask him about his day. With a smirk followed by a shrug and a ruffle of his hair Wilson explains it was pretty unexciting for the most part. Though he did troll House good at lunch. After a sip of soup, he wiggles his eyebrows as you wait for him to continue.

He proceeds to tell you about how House suspected something was up between the two of you for later in the evening, specifically House was interested in any acts of deviance. You tilt your head as you are unsure how much Wilson would reveal – it isn’t that you are ashamed or anything, but he knows you are a private person. Noticing the shift in your posture he smiles to reassure you; and then goes on to explain the story that he told House, about you pouring hot wax over him! Which then quickly became obvious it was a huge joke when he explained the bit about the scented organic candle. As if you would use a scented candle! 

You can’t help but interrupt that there is no way that House would believe him, but a playful smirk from Wilson tells you otherwise – he definitely had House drug along. You do admit the idea that Wilson has ‘candle standards’ does sound convincing; you’ve seen his Sephora card, so it isn’t beyond the realm of possibility. And in that moment, you realize just how smart Wilson is when it comes to reading and understanding people. House is his best friend, and he knows **_exactly_** how to mess with him.

Wilson continues the story to explain that House was like puddy in his hands and that when he admitted to alternative uses for neckties that House blew him off. You can’t help but gasp in surprise, but Wilson assures you that House thinks it can’t be true since he played up the candle card. Thinking about your conversation with House last night at the bar, he made it clear he didn’t want to hear any details of your plans for the evening; it could be the House is more of a prude than he would like to project?

A giggle from Wilson catches your attention, “Yes, House is a bit of a prude all things considered.” Whoops, you totally said that out loud and you blush a little. Continuing, Wilson works hard to reassure you, “Don’t worry, House isn’t going to run around saying inappropriate things – plus, I get the feeling that he doesn’t see you as his enemy.” Nodding in reply it makes sense; after he disrupted your private spa time, he’s been somewhat annoying but not malicious.

After supper, Wilson helps you clean up and he pulls his laptop out on the couch. He wants to book flights to Montreal for the New Year, and he needs your travel info and passport to purchase the tickets. In a matter of minutes, he’s got two tickets from Newark to Montreal on Porter. You really can’t go wrong with an airline that has a raccoon as a mascot. It is clear that he is taking the lead on this trip and he assures you that he’ll book the hotel and worry about any other logistics.

The early evening then bleeds into sleepy snuggling on the couch watching the travel channel before calling it a night. Friday is your last day of work until the New Year since your current employer shuts down over the Christmas and New Year holidays and only a small skeleton crew works. One of their most attractive corporate policies was their emphasis on work life balance.

Wilson hangs out with House Friday night, something about a monster truck show that can’t be missed and a text from House tells Wilson to bring a smattering of ingredients and beer. You are asleep on the couch when Wilson rings for you to let him into your place and Keith mews with interest as you stumble up. Greeting him with a yawn, he knows that you will be crashing immediately, and he mumbles something about Saturday’s plans which you ignore.

The weekend goes quickly; you make sure you have all the supplies for Keith, laundry is sorted and packed. Wilson is a little clingier than usual making sure to fit in a much sex as possible even though you won’t be gone for that long. Sunday evening, suitcase packed save for a few toiletries, you hand over the spare keys to Wilson for Keith. With a characteristic ruffle of his hair, he apologizes he can’t take you to the airport tomorrow morning, but he’s got work for the next few days covering the early shift with House and Chase.

You lean in and give him a good hug, patting him reassuringly on the back and let him know it isn’t a big deal. Your flight is in the morning and you need to get to the airport early anyways. His nose leans down to nuzzle the side of your neck and he quickly makes it clear where he wants to go – the bedroom. Laughing and muttering how incredulous he is, you lead him to into your room as Keith pays no attention licking his butt on the couch.

The sound of NPR wakes you up earlier than usual and you roll out of bed as Wilson sighs into the bed. The aroma of coffee leads him to the kitchen with messy hair and sleepy eyes. After a quick breakfast, you dress and double check all of your items. Wilson still in his pajamas gives you a hug and kiss, before you head out the door and down to your car. You pet Keith and nuzzle him on the couch one last time and with that you are on your way to the airport and the annoying process of driving to the airport, parking, waiting for the shuttle to the terminal, checking in, clearing security and making your way to the gate. Thankfully, since it is the 24th it is brisk but not overwhelmingly busy and before eleven am, you are back in your home state and waiting at the baggage claim for your bag. 

You text Wilson to let him know you arrived safely and are waiting to meet your parents before spending the next few days with your immediate and extended family. As you sit in the back of the mid-sized sedan, a question about who is taking care of Keith catches your attention as you look at the snow-covered suburban landscape. In that moment, you decide to admit the existence of Wilson, by replying that your boyfriend is taking care of Keith. Over the course of the rest of the day you slowly reveal the amount of information that you feel comfortable with about the existence of a Doctor James Evan Wilson; concluding with the photo from the winter formal that he sent to you.

With that out in the open, the rest of your Christmas break is low key only with various friends and relatives asking about your relationship and in general are happy for you. You still can’t escape the numerous questions from your Mom, but at this point, she’s learned that if you are talking about it, it must be significant. Wilson sends you a text on Christmas at work; he’s wearing a reindeer hat and a festive tie while House rolls his eyes in the background but grinning like an idiot.

You reply thanking him and ask him to give Keith some extra pets and chin scritches. He assures you that he will and later sends a picture of Keith snuggled up on the couch with a new toy mouse between his front paws. . . . because of course, Wilson would buy Keith a Christmas present.

* * *

In a matter of minutes, Wilson finds himself alone in his girlfriend’s apartment with Keith as she zooms out the door and off to the airport. A pang of loneliness lingers for a moment before he is off to work to cover the morning shift in the Clinic and check in with all the oncology patients. House grumbles to all of those around about working in the Clinic but his complaints are met with little interest as everyone damn well knows that he volunteered to be close to Wilson. 

They take a late lunch break and make their way to the café where holiday decorations abound and both men select the holiday themed soup and sandwich special which House thoroughly mocks, yet still eats all of. Chase finds them halfway through lunch and asks if he can join the men. He’s dressed in his scrubs, working in the ER and on call for the OR. The three of them shoot the shit as their hour break dwindles bantering about various topics from what the rest of their colleagues are doing during the holiday to establishing a bet if Chase will have to perform a surgery in the next 24 hours. House immediately loses his end of the bet as Chase’s pager goes off alerting him to scrub into the OR. Wilson laughs holding his open hand for House to pay up as he pouts stating he doesn’t have that kind of cash on him.

They stroll back to the Clinic and proceed to deal with a last-minute rush of patients with runny noses and sniffles soothing anxious parents. At the end of their shift House returns to his office to finish up his grant proposal in the next few hours while Wilson heads off to feed Keith and eat supper alone. 

Christmas day, Wilson wakes up to a fresh coat of snow, and it truly looks like a picture-perfect holiday outside. Wearing his salmon and cream dress shirt, with a red and gold tie, he wears his sweater vest with soft grey dress pants and grabs is infamous reindeer hat to wear while working that day. There is nothing like a well-dressed doctor, white coat and all sporting festive antlers, though House will vocally disagree. Between patients in the Clinic, Wilson and House goof off as one of the junior nurses rolls her eyes at their silly puerile games wondering if either of them left elementary school. Wilson’s hat is a huge hit with patients of all ages; the more House mocks it the wider their grins become. 

Signing out at the main desk, the men laugh as House pulls out his phone to request their order for take-out from Bamboo Garden. He tries to give Wilson’s credit card number but the employee on the other side of the line only laughs knowing that he’s not Mr. James E. Wilson, sir. House fesses up and gives his info and the men agree to meet up at House’s place after he feeds his girlfriend’s cat. After feeding the small floof, he gives him a small present of a toy mouse. After scooping the litterbox and changing the water, he finds Keith curled up with the toy between his front legs. Too cute to ignore, he snaps a picture and sends it to his girlfriend.

Settling onto the couch with a few beers and their expected orders, they turn the TV to the twenty-four-hour marathon of ‘A Christmas Story’ with tons of color commentary. Wilson gives House shit about how he must have had a tough childhood back then, being a child of the fifties. The men slowly calm down as the food settles in their stomachs and quietly sip their beers. 

“We haven’t done this in a few years.” House’s voice quietly cuts through the silence as the movie plays in the background.

Wilson holds his beer in his left hand halfway to his lips. He turns to look at House comfortably seated with a heating pad on his leg but with an unusual expression as he waits for Wilson to say something. He lowers his beer to his lap before deciding to put it on the coffee table as his brain looks for words.

“Yeah. We haven’t. I’d say the last time we spent Christmas together was when I ditched Hanukkah dinner with Julie and her family.” In response to Wilson’s words, House physically shifts nervously taking a quick sip of his own beer.

“Yeah . . . that seems like it was so long ago. I mean – you were still married to Julie and doing a very good job of avoiding her.” House begins to pick at the label on his beer bottle unsure how much to say and in the background Ralphie is pushed down the slide by Santa’s boot and his request for a Red Rider BB gun in the scene shot in the old Higbee’s department store in Cleveland.

Wilson sighs and feels he needs something stronger than just a beer. Standing up, he ruffles his hair and heads to the bathroom, “I gotta take a piss. I also think I need a stronger drink. What do you have in the liquor cabinet?” He lingers behind House on the couch as he glances up to him, his blue eyes slightly shaky. 

Scratching at his stubble, House thinks. “I’ve got whisky or bourbon; just pick one and grab glasses and some ice.” 

Nodding, Wilson relieves himself and splashes his face with some cool water. Looking at his reflection in the small mirror, he quietly addresses himself. “This is it.” On Christmas, he’s going to end up talking about **_it_**. Them.

Carefully, he pulls down two glasses, puts ice on a bowl and roots around for a serving tray. Lastly, he makes it a point to add two more tumbler style glasses and a pitcher of water. He returns to the living room and places the tray between them on the coffee table before going back to grab a liter of Woodford Reserve. Not the most expensive bottle that House has had in his place, but certainly an easy one to drink.

House picks up a few cubes with his hand and tosses them into each glass waiting for Wilson to pour the rye into them, the ice shifting and cracking in response to the room temperature liquor. Wilson settles down next to House again as both of them reach out and hold their glasses with a slight hesitation as to who should make the first move and speak.

Clearing his throat, Wilson raises his glass slightly, “A toast to all our past relationships. Long or short, we loved them all.” House slowly reaches out towards his glass with his own.

“That we did, each in our own ways.” House’s glass lightly taps Wilson’s with a clink.

Together they both take a sip, and Wilson peers into his glass wondering how to broach the subject they have danced around these almost two years.

“You’re my best friend. You always have been.” House speaks barely above a whisper, but **_somehow_** louder than the TV in the background. He quickly takes another sip, clearly for courage and to steady himself.

Wilson sighs as he watches how the ice melts in his glass between his fingers. “I know that Greg. I’m here with you.” After saying this, he looks at House with the softest eyes he can muster, and he pauses giving House time to think if he wants to reply or let Wilson keep talking.

Turning his glass while looking at one of the lights, House finally speaks. “I thought I’d lost you back then. I’m the reason Amber was on that crosstown bus. I called expecting you to be my ride home”, House pauses and takes a large sip of his drink, “but instead she drank with me and then followed me onto the bus. Why did she do it? Why did she Wilson?”

House looks into Wilson’s eyes, searching for him to give him the answer that he doesn’t know.

Trailing his finger along the condensation forming on his glass, Wilson looks at his socks before taking another drink to steel his resolve. “I don’t exactly know why. I can only guess.” 

Looking away from House for a moment he takes a deep breath before saying what he has come to realize in the past year or so. “I know that she loved me; in part, she likely did it because she felt that it was one way for her to show that she loved me. Amber was a very transactional sort of person; everything she did was in exchange for something whether physical or abstract, but it was always done for something that she gained.”

Tears start to well up in the corners of his eyes, but Wilson holds them back and instead starts to sniffle with a runny nose. Time heals all wounds, yet, here now on Christmas day in House’s apartment, he’s about to release all the emotions that he pushed down to move forward with his life and also to cope with House’s addiction. Pulling himself together, his eyes finally lock with House’s looking scared for what else might be said.

“I.” House’s voice is hoarse and almost cracks, “I was so fucking stupid because of her. I – I” House struggles to go on as he puts his drink down and holds his head in his hands for a moment gathering his thoughts – hunched over, bowing before Wilson, he continues “I wanted her, I mean I desired her; even though she was so abrasive. I ultimately fired her so that she wouldn’t become Cameron 2.0. What I didn’t anticipate was her running to you for comfort.”

If this were before Amber had died, Wilson would have **_lost it_** with House. He would have yelled at him for looking at his girlfriend; how could he have even told him shit like that when he was dating her, hell, when he was living with her? But now is not then, and Wilson had ample time to realize what was going on. When House had started hallucinating Amber as his addiction spiraled out of control, it tipped him off to what House had just admitted. That he had been attracted to her. Furthermore, even though Amber did love him, he knew that she in part dated him to stay close to House. She needed to be in orbit of House to prove to him that she **_deserved_** to have been awarded a spot on his team.

Running his hands over his face as he wipes away the moisture forming around his eyes, Wilson softly replies to his best friend. House is looking at him patiently, expectantly for something. 

“I know it threw you for a loop when I started dating Amber. She was hurt and, well, you know me, I’m at my best at times like these.” He makes a sweeping gesture in the air before them with his right hand to confirm that he did exactly what both of them knew he’d do.

Wilson takes a deep sip from his glass and puts it down so he can grab onto his legs for support before continuing.

“But . . . I also know that she dated me in part to stay close to you. The two of you are cut from the same cloth; two perfectionists who will spend all of their energy to meet the impossible expectations of a parent or parents. She wanted nothing more than to have your approval, and she felt she could gain that by demonstrating to you how she’d do whatever you would have done to win you over.”

Wilson releases all the tension and sinks back into the couch, his entire body weak and exhausted from his confession. He sat there a moment just allowing his body to rest.

“Why’d you stick with me? Most people would have long ago given up on me.” House’s voice hoarse and barely above a whisper highlights the wetness around his eyes and the redness around them.

Sitting up and pouring a glass of water, he hands it to House before pouring one for himself as well. Sighing heavily, tears starting to escape his control, Wilson softly and sadly smiles at his best friend. “Simple. Greg, you’re my best friend and I love you. Plus, who else will you talk to when you need a breakthrough on a case?”

The two men stare each other for a moment before they start to laugh. It is slow, small and barely noticeable at first. A slight bubble starting in both of their chests, awkward, hesitant. As a giggle escapes from House’s lips, he covers his mouth with his free hand just as Wilson’s own laughs become audible. Growing from a gentle wave, it swells that in a matter of minutes, both men are laughing deep from their bellies releasing years of unresolved feelings between them. Gasping for air, House is wheezing, and it is then that Wilson notices the tears streaming down House’s face as he tries to regain his composure. Only then, does he notice that wet streaks are on his own cheeks as he wipes his eyes with his right arm.

Things settle down between the two of them as they drink water and House breaks the moment by announcing his immediate biological need to urinate. Of course, House adds that one of the pluses of no longer being addicted to Vicodin means taking a piss is much easier. 

Wilson pulls out a packet of tissues and blows the teary snot from his nose and dries his eyes, feeling one hundred pounds lighter. He had no idea how cathartic it would be to finally talk about this with House. Not sure if House would ever actually say “I’m sorry.” in regard to what happened with Amber, he at least knew now that House was sober and grounded enough to admit how his own feelings got tied up in everything. It also forced Wilson to recognize that his own bad habits in relationships may have tempered with Amber, but it is only recently that he’d been able to slow down and act differently in a relationship. Diving in head first isn’t the best approach.

The toilet flushes and the tap runs for a longer than normal time before House emerges with a freshly washed face, his eyes red and puffy around the corners indicating he likely cried a bit more behind the bathroom door. The ending credits of the movie scroll by and House grunts in the general direction of his TV. “I’m not really in favor of watching the movie again, how about ‘Die Hard’?”

Glancing at his watch, it shows that it is just after eight; Wilson smiles and agrees to it but takes a break to wash up and also make some microwave popcorn while House queues up the movie. They settle into comfortable positions as House makes sure to take care of his leg placing a heating pad on it and Wilson puts the large bowl of popcorn between them. The two of them slow down the consumption of their drinks while alternating with water to stay hydrated while watching a ‘classic’ Christmas movie. Not surprisingly, both Wilson and House fall asleep at some point and groggily, Wilson manages to extract himself from the couch and put the bowl in the dishwasher for House. Fussing as usual, he returns to clean up their empty glasses now with only a few millimeters of liquid at the bottom and the ice in the bowl has long since melted into a small puddle. House groans as he limps into the kitchen with the bottle of whiskey and puts it back into his liquor cabinet which Wilson notices is much emptier than is used to be.

Brow furrowed in concern, Wilson asks if House is okay. Of course, he replies that he is and that he just needs to hop in the bath and head to bed soon. Wilson nods and hangs back for another minute when it is clear that House isn’t lying; the tap turns on in the bathroom to fill the tub. Not quite sober, Wilson or maybe using the ‘excuse’ that he isn’t sober, he decides to crash at his girlfriend’s place a few minutes away.

Bundling up in his winter clothing, he bids good night to House as he peeks his head out the bathroom to reply with a curt, “Night Wilson.” Outside, the quiet hush of heavy snowflakes drop down around him lightly. After brushing off his windshield and letting the defroster run for a few minutes, he quickly arrives at his girlfriend’s place and trudges up the stairs. Keith greets him excitedly at the door and he performs his whole evening ritual a few hours later than normal. Drinking one more glass of water and taking an ibuprofen, Wilson collapses into her bed, warm and smelling like her. He hugs her pillow close to his chest as he settles into the bed. A berrrtt announces the arrival of Keith who snuggles up to him before curling up in a cat circle, his back pressed against Wilson’s legs.

Wilson essentially has tomorrow off – he is on call, but from home, not at PPTH. He sets his alarm for seven thirty at the latest, certain that Keith will be sure to wake him for breakfast tomorrow. Physically and emotionally burnt out, Wilson sighs and wishes she were here to snuggle with since he finally had the conversation with House. Her scent mixed with her fabric softener tickles his nose and he relaxes as he thinks about how happy he’ll feel when he gets to hug her again in a few days. With that, Wilson drifts off to sleep his thoughts a mix of emotional and physical longing.

* * *

House sinks into his tub after Wilson had left. The light scent of lavender and mint wafts through the air as the steam rises up all around him. Did he just add some therapeutic bath salts? Maybe. . . 

He can feel the exhaustion of his entire body and he rubs his face a few times trying to wipe away any distracting emotions and begins to focus on his breath. The next few minutes House just allows himself to be; no active thoughts with an explicit focus on his breath and clearing his mind.

Slowly, he brings his awareness back to his body in the tub. A lightness now accompanies his sheer exhaustion, but his leg feels better. Hell, his entire body feels better. Briefly, he wonders if he should analyze what just happened between Wilson and him, but then realizes that is what his therapy sessions with Nolan are about. It is okay to talk to someone else about this and he doesn’t have to solve all of his personal issues on his own.

Feeling like some part of him has shifted permanently in a new direction, he pulls himself out of the tub and dries off with the largest, fluffiest towels and makes a cup of tea for one last bit of quiet wakefulness before going to bed.

Alarm set for a special post-holiday yoga class tomorrow morning, he quickly passes out. 

The warm glow of a fancy sunbeam clock rouses House the day after Christmas. There is a lingering feeling of exhaustion but for the most part he feels like he turned a corner in his relationship with Wilson. Yawning, he changes into his usual old t-shirt and a pair of Hopkins sweat pants that might date back to his brief stint on the cheer squad. The sun is just changing the colors of the night to dawn and the snow all glows around as his car putters its way to the yoga studio. 

Attendance is low for the class and he gets additional attention from the instructor has she guides him to go deeper into several poses he struggled with in the past. Afterwards, House is able to move much more easily than usual and puts all of his props away with a slight smile passing over his lips. The instructor nods to him as he puts his outwear on in the small lobby before speaking. “You apologized to someone didn’t you?” her voice is completely neutral, maybe even positive and he shrugs looking at her bare feet on the wood floor. 

Trying to not appear shocked at her acute observation, he scratches his short hair while fidgeting on the bench. “What makes you say something like that? Why would I have to apologize to anyone?” House tries to summon up the acidic comments of his past, but as soon as he speaks it rings so – **_hollow_**.

His teacher remains calm, “We all have to apologize to others; it is a fundamental aspect of being human. Those who deny this aspect of their basic nature are doomed to only cultivate bitterness and disappointment.” She walks to the small computer and logs off before taking a sip of water from her eco-friendly container giving House a moment of silence. “Unless you are the first wave of the cyborg invasion.” Her eyebrows arch up for emphasis.

House has no choice but to sigh before he replies, “If that were the case, I think I need to ask for a refund for my leg.” He pats it bringing it to her attention. Smiling, the yogi replies to him not missing a beat, “Well, I’d suggest you take that up with your overlord and cyborg leader.”

 ** _Goddammit_** , House thinks as he laughs with her. This woman is much more perceptive than he originally thought. He may not agree with all the touchy-feely chakra talk, but she’s got a better understanding of human nature than most and he can’t out-logic her in situations like these. If she ever teamed up with Wilson, he might have to confess all of his emotions without even realizing it.

Standing up slowly and relying of his cane a little less than normal, he tells her that he’ll be out of town for the next class, so he won’t see her until the next calendar year. She wishes him a happy new year and he replies with a grunt and a non-committal ‘sure’. 

The sun shines brightly, its weaker rays still warming his face as he walks to his car and returns to his apartment. The rest of the day is spent packing up clothing for his trip home to visit his Mom and his required homework from Nolan, to visit his Father’s grave to deliver a letter he wrote to him while in rehab for closure. House still doesn’t think it will make much of a difference, but he is required to do this and needs to send photographic evidence to his therapist for proof. Wilson is working tomorrow so he can’t bum a ride to the airport from him and Chase instead will drop him off at the airport on his way to the city for a few days of his own rather lonely winter holiday.

The last thing he does is bake half a batch of sugar cookies; he neatly packs the little snowmen, snowflakes and stars so that they will fit in his carry-on bag and he finds himself in a quiet moment of calm as the dishwasher runs, the sloshing of the water soothes him as he puts away the clean dishes from last night and doesn’t even think about having a drink to take the edge off.

The next morning, Chase rings him ahead of his arrival giving him time to make a small bag of cookies for Chase to enjoy. It isn’t that he’s giving them to Chase because he’s alone and with few people to turn to this time of year. He just has extras that will go bad by time he returns from Virginia.

A quick knock on the door announces his most loyal yet apathetic of fellows, and Chase comes in wearing a warm knit hat and lightweight down outwear. He picks up House’s bag, while allowing him to carry his smaller bag himself. Ever since Chase and Cameron split, House has felt closer to Chase. Perhaps it had to do with the impossible standards that Cameron tried to impose on him? Or maybe the fact that deep down he knew that Chase’s disappointment reminded him of his own?

House is pulled out of his thoughts as Chase asks him what he’ll do while visiting his family. He gives a generic reply, which works in allowing Chase to do most of the talking. The Aussie gives a detailed itinerary of his plans including what museums he’ll visit, the food he intends to enjoy and a meditation retreat that is to focus on the teachings and thoughts of Thomas Merton for the New Year’s Eve and New Year’s Day with obligatory Mass. 

Chase remains an enigma to him. He’s one of the most calculating fellows that has been in the department and frequently the brightest and most creative. House has always seen some of himself in the younger man; Chase always has that feeling of naïve excitement mixed with a father-son conflict dynamic. He has to give it to him; Chase is much better at hiding his emotions that House ever will be despite his outward statements of logical and reason above all else. 

“A religious retreat for the New Year? Sounds rather dull and boring.” House is curious why on earth Chase would spend one of most important party times of the entire year in mediation and silence.

A heavy sigh escapes from Chase as he glances over at House while the car moves down the interstate. “House, you do realize why Allison left me? Why I was a complete wreck for weeks after we lost our ‘infamous’ patient?” Chase’s eyes dart to look at House as he stares straight ahead. “The patient that you left paperwork on the table for Foreman and I to ‘find’ for the medical review board on our handling of the case.”

Realizing that House has been so focused on his own recovery, he had turned a blind eye to what was likely the boldest decision that Chase would make in his **_entire_** medical career. Hell, his entire life. Honestly, House was beyond impressed at the resolve he had to follow through on his actions. In terms of the geopolitical landscape, Chase had done what would have considered the right thing for the circumstances. It was one of those situations where there are no good solutions, but you have to still choose one even if it sucks. House’s own personality would have prevented him for having the guts to follow through since he doesn’t care about the patient or their impact of things. He just sees a case that needs to be solved.

“You know I don’t concern myself with the greater details of our cases. I look at each case as a puzzle to solve.” House turns to look at Chase focused on driving.

“I know you don’t. But we don’t exist in a vacuum that ends when you leave Princeton-Plainsboro. And because I believe all people are interconnected, I need to seek my own answers the way I know best. Through prayer and meditation.”

House fidgets in his seat and plays with the seatbelt strap across his chest. He knows that Chase is in partly right, but it will be a cold day in hell before he respects that other people are okay with religion. Furthermore, he’s always been fascinated by Chase’s rather pragmatic approach to organized religion.

“Well,” House pauses as he turns to Chase, “Whatever floats your boat, I guess. Just don’t come back to Princeton with your resignation letter because you’ve found your calling through God, okay? You know I can’t take sexually repressed men in funny hats seriously.”

Chase laughs at House’s admission of caring about him. “Shit House, I’m just looking for personal reflection and reconciliation – not a career change. You already know my religious calling failed once already.”

Assured that he wasn’t about to lose his favorite fellow anytime soon, House relaxes a bit. Though eventually, he knows that Chase is going to gain the confidence to realize he could run his own department.

The sound of the turning signal clicks as Chase works his way to the exit ramp for the airport. Pulling up to the departures area, Chase puts his small car in park and pops open the trunk. While he pulls out House’s suitcase, House sneaks the bag of cookies into Chase’s satchel for him to find later today. Suitcase on the sidewalk, Chase opens his arms ready to hug House. Awkwardly, he lets him give him a quick hug; House is okay with this since it is in front of total strangers who hustle and bustle around them. 

“Have a safe flight! I’ll see you next year!” Chase smiles over his car hood as he opens the driver door and House nods back to him. 

“Okay. I’ll see you in January.” House gestures with his cane in hand, small backpack resting on the suitcase. 

With that House turns and makes his way to the curbside check in so that he doesn’t have to wheel the suitcase any further than necessary. Airline staff quickly arrange for him to get a ride on one of the small carts as they apologize that his flight is departing from one of the furthest gates from the check in point. Instead of gruffly ignoring them, he nods them and mutters a quiet thank you as they whisk him by all sorts of people flying home with faces of excitement or dread. Others are happily heading to some sort of warm destination, indicated by their sandals and straw hats in direct contrast to the below freezing temperatures of New Jersey.

The nervousness of butterflies grows in his stomach, when the friendly woman driving him to the security checkpoint tells him to relax. She’s a middle-aged black woman with a short curly bob haircut and wears the timeless uniform of black slacks, a white dress shirt and a red and black vest. Her identification hangs around her neck from a lanyard and she adjusts a pair of cat eye glasses. “I can tell you aren’t used to this type of treatment sir. Don’t worry, I’m sure your body will thank you for not making things worse by walking through the airport before you even get crammed onto a plane.”

House laughs, “What makes you think I’ll feel better with your assistance?” He’s curious if she’s always this optimistic or if this is just an act.

A guffaw meets his question, “Nice try Mr. Smartypants. I’ve been driving people around this airport for almost twenty years. You sir, are going home to visit your Mama; you’ve been a bad boy and you still want to head for the hills.”

If House could have thrown himself off of the slow-moving cart in the hopes he’d die on impact, he would have done it. Unfortunately, a golf cart that has been designed to not exceed 5 miles per hour would hardly be effective at killing him on impact; instead, he’d be laying on the polished composite floor surrounded by gawkers. As the entire scenario plays through his mind, he realizes the futility of his escape and deflects her astute observation.

“Tell me then, who is the most famous person you’ve driven through the airport?” His question has the woman grinning. “What type of famous are you talking about here?” She beams as he prompts her with various categories from celebrity to political figures to musicians.

After clearing security and reaching his gate at the at end of a long quiet corridor it is time to hop off of the small cart. House slowly edges off of it and turns to face the woman. “Well sir, it was interesting chatting with you. Have a pleasant flight and make sure to give your Mama a good hug.” House extends his right hand to her, “I don’t make any guarantees.” He glances at her name tag so that he can address her directly, “Yolonda.” 

Her hand is firm and warm, “Fair enough Mr.” she waits for his reply as they shake. 

“Greg. Greg House.” He feels she at least deserves his honestly even if he’s still reluctant to admit she’s beyond correct.

“Well, have a good day then Greg. Perhaps, I’ll see you when you return?” She smiles and then the sound of the alarm on the cart beeps loudly as she puts it into reverse. House smirks back at her and shrugs. 

“Perhaps.” And with that she’s on her little walkie talkie to report to another gate to pick up another passenger. House pulls out his headphones and listens to an up and coming blues group that Sal introduced him to as he closes his eyes and waits for his flight to begin the pre-boarding process.

He naps from takeoff to touchdown and only the sound of the wheels extending to landing position rouse him from his slumber. As he deplanes, he shakes off any feelings of dread knowing that his father won’t be there. 

As the bags circle around on the baggage carousel, his Mom yells his name and one of her friends from some sort of older-lady-club-thing-friend is with her. He finds himself surprised by her embrace but slowly relaxes as he thinks about what Nolan told him to focus on for this visit. That he is here to let go of the pain and old wounds and to move on from them. With that in mind, he gives into accepting the happiness and relief that is radiating off of his Mom. 

Before he knows it, he’s in the car and his Mom is explaining that her friend Juanita and her are having an ‘unofficial’ Christmas dinner tomorrow and they’d be delighted if he’d be willing to help with the cooking. Unsure who tipped his Mom off to his newfound cooking skills (Nolan, Wilson, Cameron, Cuddy – really any number of people from PPTH could have forwarded this information along) he just shrugs and says he’ll do what he can.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I finally got to write the conversation that I wished that Wilson and House would have had in the show! As I've stated a few times previously, I was disappointed with the writing in seasons 7 & 8\. House and Wilson needed to have a talk about what happened with Amber long before House moved in with Wilson in season 6, but being the idiots they are the TV show just decides to never have them really broach the subject. House and Wilson should have cried about the emotions between them not just act like bros . . .
> 
> The first time I watched season 4, I found myself baffled by the Wilson-Amber relationship. It didn't make sense to me; honestly and I thought it was mainly for comedic effect so that Amber and House could fight over Wilson. On a second watch, I found it to be much more nuanced; I think that Wilson loved Amber, as House says in season 1, Wilson loves all the women he's with and I don't think that changes, it is an inherent part of him. 
> 
> What I think is more important on a second watch is that House fires Amber from the Diagnostics team for several reasons; i.) he sees too much of himself in her and if she joined the team, they'd be at each others' throats all the time ii.) on some level House respected her as shown during his attempt to put together the events surrounding the bus accident iii.) he found her attractive. When he and Wilson discuss the attractiveness of the candidates, House doesn't disagree with Wilson's assessment that she's attractive just like Thirteen. However, likely fearing a Cameron 2.0 and also knowing that Thirteen was not the type of woman who'd give him the time of day, she was the safer of the two potential hires. Due to all of these factors, this is what leads him to start to hallucinate her since she made such an impact on him in such a short time.
> 
> And finally, I decided to return to focusing on Chase. I was always impressed by the 'plot twist' that he swapped lab samples that lead to the incorrect diagnosis for the generic African dictator. His character I found had a very similar sense of morality that Wilson has - guided by basic religious principles but due to their intelligence, a flexibility that would make any devout member of their religion to decry them to be heretics. The TV show could have delved much deeper into this life altering decision that he made, but all they did was have Cameron divorce him. The man single handedly prevented a genocide and Cameron is like 'You are a terrible person. I'm leaving.' which was the most Cameron thing to do. Based on what we know about Chase's character, it is obvious that he'd seek resolution through his complicated relationship with his faith.


	29. vacation with Wilson

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Christmas now over, House out of town, Wilson waits for his girlfriend to return tying up any loose ends at PPTH. She manages to surprise him and he already has his counter plan for her when she returns to Princeton.
> 
> They finally head to Montreal to begin a vacation together; both are excited to visit the city and ring in the New Year.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some lovely fluff with the smut alluded to. A classy chapter indeed. Enjoy!

Wilson is signing out of the Clinic at 3:30 on December 27th as he chats with Brenda until he’s paged to return an urgent call in his office. Surprised, he tells Brenda he’ll see her tomorrow and quickly makes his way back to his office. Just after he enters, his phone rings and he picks it up without even looking at it.

“Wilson! Excellent, I couldn’t get a hold of your cell, so I figured I’d page you instead.” House’s voice is demanding, whatever this is, it can’t wait.

Massaging his nose while squinting his eyes as he sighs, “This was the urgent page?! You could have just left me a voicemail.” Wilson still feels a little weary from their emotional catharsis on Christmas and demanding House is a little much for him.

House scoffs over the phone, “No one ever calls you Wilson, you’d just forget to check. Anyways, I need you to do me a favor. I left something in my apartment; I need you to send it by next day mail okay.”

Rubbing his nose, a touch harder with his right hand, Wilson sighs letting House know he’ll do it, but House will owe him, “Fine. What do you need me to do?” 

There is a quiet hesitation on the other side of the line for a moment longer than natural, “I left a document that I was supposed to bring for my Mom. Just call me when you get to my place and I’ll tell you where it is.” House’s voice sounds normal, but an undercurrent of discomfort hides below, letting Wilson know this is important. Taking on mission impossible number 457, find House’s mysterious document, he tells House he’ll ring him once he’s done with work and at his apartment. And with that he can hear the sound of House’s Mom and others in the background. House mumbles a quick, “Gotta split.” And hangs up. Which is just House being House.

Wilson glances at his watch, Eva is set to check in with Susan in the oncology main office at four and he wants to make sure her time here goes smoothly. Sure, enough when he enters Susan’s office, Eva is seated at the L-shaped desk filling out the final paperwork. Each place for a signature, initials and date are highlighted with cheerful seasonally matched sticky tabs. As expected, Eva is impeccably dressed, a navy tailored pants suit, crisp white dress shirt and her choice designer heels, the red soles visible due to her crossed legs. In contrast is Susan wearing a knit sweater with penguins doing winter spots on it and fun snowflake tights and clogs.

“Hello Doctor Wilson! Here to check in with Doctor Forrester and give her a tour?” the seasonally appropriate secretary is beaming, and Wilson can’t help but to smile brightly back at her. 

“Yes, Susan. I’m here to help Doctor Forrester get settled in. I see you have all of the paperwork organized and marked for her!” Wilson leans against the bookshelf full of departmental binders all organized and maintained by Susan.

Susan smiles and Wilson makes small talk with her while Eva silently makes her way through the paperwork. Once complete, she clears her throat, causing Wilson and Susan to stop talking about what sort of kids activities are happening for New Year’s.

“I’m done. Is there anything else you require from me?” Eva speaks flatly and Susan’s brow seems a bit furrowed as she tries to read this Manhattanite and her cold personality.

Taking the folder of completed forms from her outstretched hand, Susan smiles as she quickly flips though it, verifying that everything is correct. “Everything seems to be in order Doctor Forrester. Tomorrow morning I’ll have your temporary id and a parking permit as well.”

Eva stands and smooths out her suit before she reaches out to shake Susan’s hand. “Thank you Susan. And please, call me Eva.”

Susan is taken by surprise by her frankness, but quickly recovers, “Certainly Doctor – Er Eva. Feel free to check in with me or Doctor Smith during your time here.”

A curt nod from Eva is her quiet reply and Wilson feeling sorry for the crash course of reading Doctor Eva Forrester 101 for Susan that he gestures broadly with his left hand for her to follow him. 

“Eva if you would come with me, I’ll introduce you to the staff who will be here for the holiday with a tour of all the important places.” Wilson glances back at Susan, waiting to watch her facial expression relax . . which it does until Eva addresses him as “James” instead of “Doctor Wilson” Susan’s eyes are wide open and he arches her brows to let her know that Eva is a first name kind of person.

With that Wilson and Eva walk through the main parts of PPTH including the break room, nurse’s station, Smith’s office, where she is unsure how to respond to the friendly yet distant oncologist sporting a pinstripe suit, floral tie and sneakers looking rough for wear. Oddly, Smith doesn’t even notice her judging him and he invites her to join him for lunch tomorrow before they perform their rounds and cover the Liu/Jones patients.

They walk by the almost empty Department of Diagnostic Medicine office; Foreman and Taub are working on paperwork rather lazily as it is clear they are also joking around about something. Neither man even notices Wilson, but they turn on cue to the sound of Eva’s heels before quickly returning to their conversation knowing it isn’t Cuddy.

Other than speaking when required, Eva is silent, and Wilson remembers how this was her mode of operation back when they were training. Until she suddenly speaks, “Your secretary, Susan, she’s good. Does she manage your entire department?”

“Yep!” Wilson replies with a smile, “She’s been with us for sometime; the best thing to come out of my second marriage.” Wilson smirks at her as he shoves his hands in his pants pockets as they head towards the Clinic and Pharmacy.

Eva’s solid exterior cracks slightly, “What do you mean? You didn’t sleep with her? Did you?” her voice is unsteady at the end, it seems that rumors of Wilson’s personal life are still more well-known than he’d like among his peers. Shrugging, he laughs since in this case Susan’s link to PPTH is innocent.

“Oh goodness no! I first met Susan when she was working as a wedding/event planner in the area. Bonnie had hired her and was beyond impressed with her skills. Additionally, while we got to know her through the wedding planning process, she had mentioned how her husband wanted to return to graduate school, but she needed a more stable job to support their young and growing family. After Bonnie and I got married, our previous departmental secretary was retiring and a little bit behind the times when it came to technology. Around that time, Bonnie and I bumped into her at the Farmer’s Market and while catching up, I remembered our impending vacancy, so I suggested she apply. Of course, she was our top candidate and within a year her husband was pursuing a graduate degree in education and our department was running smoother than ever.”

Wilson opens the door to the Clinic for her and he follows behind her. 

“I see. You have a knack for noticing talent James.” Eva has returned to her normal poise and the rest of the tour includes introducing her to Brenda, the head pharmacist and lastly a brief stop with Cuddy. 

Tour guide duties complete, Wilson escorts Eva to the main atrium and tells her, he’ll finish up any minor details tomorrow with her before he takes vacation the following day. And with that she departs, and Wilson checks his watch again, a quarter to five. Almost perfect timing.

Before heading to his girlfriend’s place to feed Keith, and eat his own supper with him, he needs to find this document for House.

He uses his set of keys and dials House, who quickly picks up. House tells him to look on the nightstand for a large ivory colored envelope, the dresser, or in the bathroom. Wilson checks the dresser, which is covered with random knick-knacks and possible pocket lint but no paperwork.

He notices that House’s old flip clock is gone and one of those fancy sunbeam clocks has replaced it. Still analogue, but much fancier. “Hey, what happened to your old clock? Since when did you use a special ‘gentle’ alarm clock?” He’s quite curious and House’s reply is immediate.

“My old clock’s alarm function finally died, and Summer said that clocks like that one are better for waking up early in winter.” House’s voice then falls awkwardly silent as Wilson stops looking for the envelope. He pauses before taunting House.

“Summer? Does this woman actually exist – she sounds like a yoga instructor.” Wilson laughs at his own joke.

House’s reply is barely audible, “Summer is my yoga instructor.” He clears his voice and continues on at a much louder volume, “If it isn’t in the bedroom, you can stop looking for my dirty magazines Wilson and check the bathroom.”

Wilson is beginning to wonder if he’s been roped into a wild goose chase but thankfully, he finds an ivory-colored envelope that had fallen off to the side where House clearly packed some personal care items. “Found it! Text me your current address, and I’ll FedEx it tonight.”

House sighs in relief over the phone. “Great. Oh, and since you are mailing it tonight, grab some money from my shoe stash.”

Shoe stash? What is House talking about when Wilson’s brain begins to figure out what he means – there is money shoved in a pair of shoes on the rack on the back of his hall closet door. Wilson asks him which pair of shoes and House replies; pair B3. Only House would make his answer more obtuse after finding a missing item.

Looking at the shoe container he looks at the rows of shoes shoved into the pockets; it is five columns by five rows all full of well-worn pairs of tennis shoes. And they smell like it too.

“Okay House. Looking at your shoes. Is the B the row or the column?” Wilson doesn’t really feeling like looking in more pairs than necessary.

“Row.” House’s reply is fast and Wilson tells him he’s pulling out the pair of disgusting old sneakers in the second row, third column. The smell is almost unbearable and Wilson gags as he replies.

“Christ House! These shoes reek!” He speaks as he fishes out a crumpled up fifty dollar bill, more than enough money to cover the cost.

“That’s part of the theft prevention Wilson! I put the money in the grossest pair to deter investigation!” House sounds proud of his system while Wilson rolls his eyes. “Hey, you are rolling your eyes! Stop that, my system is brilliant!”

Wilson laughs as he puts the shoes back and gingerly places the bill on the coffee table as he goes to wash off his hands. “Yes, your system is foolproof; almost like hiding money under the bed in a box. I gotta wash this shoe funk off my hands. Text me the address and I’ll mail it out as soon as I leave.”

“You just are impressed by my system Wilson. I’ll see you in January!” and with that House’s voice is abruptly terminated as he hangs up and Wilson washes away the questionable foot funk. He picks up the letter with the bill and inspects the envelope. The outside is unlabeled and inside he can see a handwritten letter, written in a cursive script from possibly a fountain pen. As tempting as it is to open it, Wilson doesn’t pry, noticing that the envelope is sealed with a wax seal and it carries a weight to it. The fact that House wouldn’t tell him what it was tells him more than enough information.

As Keith inhales his supper, and Wilson’s take out sits still in the containers unopened on the small kitchen table, Wilson texts House letting him know the documents are on their way to Virginia and he includes a screenshot of the tracking number. 

Only then does Wilson unpack the Vietnamese entrée and pour himself a cup of tea to settle down on the couch turning on the TV. “Come on Keith!” as he calls the fluffy cat, Keith makes a chirp-mew and hops up onto the couch next to Wilson. 

His left hand settles on the cat, stroking his fur slowly while he watches a Korean drama that he overheard some of the medical students talking about in the lounge recently. The show is cute enough, but he has a hard time following things since he’s distracted. 

Wilson was more than happy to take care of Keith, but he’s been taking his feline care taking duties quite seriously; by sleeping over instead of going back to his condo. After his confrontation with House, the emptiness of his condo has left him a little unsettled and lonely. He hasn’t been able to make enough memories with his girlfriend at his condo to override those around House when he lived with him. So here he is, snuggled up under the blanket on his girlfriend’s couch with her cat missing her. He thought about calling or texting her yesterday or even today, but it seemed to be too important to tell her about over the phone. Tomorrow couldn’t come sooner.

Keith repositions himself so that his paw is over his face and Wilson slowly retrieves his phone and snaps a pic of the cat. 

After the photo, Wilson adds additional text.

**_I think he’s dreaming of you._ **

Just after eight, his phone pings, and it is a reply from her.

**_I think he’s dreaming of how warm and comfortable you are. I see you are keeping him company at my place._ **

Wilson swallows nervously, he didn’t tell her how much of his spare time he was spending at her place. As he then notices she’s still typing something. The next message then pops up.

**_If you are still at my place, I need you to do me a small favor. Go into the bedroom and open my sock drawer, there is something for Keith in there I forgot to tell you about._ **

Wilson replies with a quick text of ‘okay’ and he makes his way to the sock drawer. He pulls open the draw to notice a small box sitting on top of some socks. The box has a single letter written on it, J, and Wilson’s heart skips a beat. Gently, he inhales as he holds the box in his hands and removes the lid. Inside is a piece of paper, cut out from the corner of a lab notebook page, the blue grid pattern behind the text.

**_J –_ **

**_I had these made at the beginning of December. I’ve been waiting for the right time to give them to you._ **

**_– With love_ **

Wilson begins to smile as he slowly removes the paper and places it on the dresser to reveal a set of keys. The keys are shiny and new, a bright silver color untarnished with no fingerprints or dirt on them. They are freshly cut copies of her apartment door key and the back door of the building. 

His girlfriend may not believe in giving gifts for Christmas and he’s Jewish but he’s laughing as his eyes get a little wet. This may have been one of the best Christmas presents he’s ever got. Wilson flops down on her bed, inhaling her scent from the bedding. Only one more day and she’ll be back, and he’ll have to thank her for he best non-Christmas present he’s gotten.

The sound of a beerttt is followed by Keith walking onto the bed to paw at Wilson’s face smooshed into a pillow. Keith mews at Wilson trying to understand what is happening. Laughing while wiping the wetness from his eyes, Wilson sits up and lets Keith settle on his lap. “Everything is okay Keith. It looks like I can spend more time with you.” Wilson scratches his chin as Keith purrs in reply. “I’m glad you like that too!” And with that Wilson leans back onto the bed as Keith snuggles into his chest as he stares at her blank white ceiling.

Sometime later, Wilson stops smiling and gets up to use the bathroom before Keith insists on being brushed and fed. Only then does he remember to check his phone! He was so happy he was too busy thinking of how to thank her, that he didn’t even think to text her back.

Turns out, it isn’t an issue, and he relaxes as he sees another message from her.

**_Out for drinks with friends from high school tonight. Flight lands at Newark at 4:37pm tomorrow. I’ll text once I have my car and I’m on my way back to Princeton. Pick up some take-out for me and I’ll see you tomorrow._ **

Wilson smiles to himself as he types a quick reply.

 **** **_Have a safe flight and see you tomorrow. [Heart emoji]_ **

And with that Wilson is bursting with happiness. He can’t wait to see her tomorrow and it takes longer than normal to fall asleep in her bed. But with Keith’s calming presence and as his emotional high slowly fades, Wilson drifts off to slumber thinking of all the ways to sexually please her.

* * *

The smell of coffee arouses you from your uncomfortable slumber in the twin bed at your parents’ place. After Wilson messaged you about Keith you told him to look for the set of keys you had cut for him before heading out for drinks with old high school classmates.

As you stretch out, you wonder how you ever were able to sleep in a twin bed for so long and the lingering taste of the drinks from last night adds to the discomfort. You didn’t drink a lot last night, but it was emotionally exhausting listen to former classmates trying to one-up each other about their careers, partners and children while you regretted this decision to try to be sociable. 

The only thing that made you smile was when Wilson finally replied to your text wishing you a safe flight and the heart emoji. You are pretty sure he was overcome with emotion upon finding the keys and it likely took him a long time to write out a simple reply . . .

Rolling out of the bed, the box spring creaks loudly protesting your adult form and you shuffle into the small kitchen to drink coffee and repack your small bag and spend the remaining time with your parents.

It is a cold but clear day, the white snow dazzling out the kitchen window and reflecting on the lake across the street. You talk about nothing in particular and in due time, you find yourself hugging your parents at the departures entrance of your local airport and they make sure to remind you to let them know you make it back safely and to pet Keith for them.

You put your noise-cancelling headphones on for the flight on the small regional jet and scroll through your ‘ancient’ but functional ipod. Excited about the trip to Montreal with Wilson for New Year’s you listen to the Stars album ‘Set yourself on fire’ and part of Arcade Fire’s excellent [but underrated album] ‘Neon Bible’ as the jet taxis to the gate at Newark.

For the first time in years, you feel that heading towards your apartment in Princeton is ‘home’. Not a place where you happen to be working and your possessions and your cat is located. It is your current home. Before hopping off the airport long term shuttle, you text Wilson requesting spicy tofu from Bamboo Garden and you text him your ETA to Princeton.

His reply is swift as you settle into your car as the defroster works at maximum force. 

**_Drive safely! I’m off my shift at 5:30. Be at your place by 6:30 at the latest._ **

With a smile growing across your lips, you are eager to see Wilson. Listening to the rest of the Arcade Fire album in the car, and then ‘The Suburbs’ as well your brain thinks immediately of Wilson as the indie pop group sings the chorus of ‘Rococo’.

The winter dark surrounds your car and headlights illuminate the light traffic back to Princeton. Just after six, you pull into your spot and pull out your small suitcase and roll it all the way to the lobby to use the elevator. When your key enters the lock a mew brightly sounds behind the door. You greet Keith through the door and his mew is even more animated at the sound of your voice. He trots out to sniff your feet as you enter and he is meowing for your full attention as you remove all of your winter outerwear and begins to investigate your suitcase, sniffing it with vigor.

Giving him ruffling pets, you prepare his supper, and he inhales the food, eager to sniff your bags again wondering where this place is that smells like, well the bags. Your stomach grumbles and you hope Wilson will be over soon with food. Though when you open your fridge you are surprised but then not surprised to see it fully stocked with an assortment of items for tomorrow perhaps? Wilson booked the tickets for an early flight on the 30th to Montreal and you return on January 3rd. On the fridge he already typed up a feeding and care guide for Keith. It is addressed to Olivia (and Brenda) with the most detailed instructions for Keith’s personal care. Looks like he found someone to take care of Keith while you are away. You feel a little guilty abandoning him so soon, but he’s accustomed to your long periods of travel from your previous location.

You then take the next few minutes to wash your face and remove that airport feeling and change into fresh pajamas and start a load of laundry and unpack your bags. While futzing around in the bathroom, a meow proceeds the sound of the door opening.

“I’m here! With supper in hand.” You pop your head out the bathroom door to see Wilson smiling, his hair messed up. He proudly displays the takeout bag in his right hand still wearing his coat and shoes. At that moment, your feet take the lead and you quickly reach him, hugging him over his cold winter jacket as he hugs you with his free hand, still balancing the food.

He laughs and then leans down to kiss you on the cheek. Feeling bold, you squeeze him a little tighter the rough texture of the wool touching your bare skin and you kiss him on the lips. Wilson gasps in surprise and you look up at his surprised dark brown eyes, eyebrows arched up as well.

As quickly as you kissed him, you step back and relieve him of the plastic bag full of food. Smirking as he ruffles his hair.

“I see what is more important to you.” Wilson sighs dramatically trying to look hurt as he removes his coat, shoes and other accessories. Shoving his hands in his pockets, a dark grey sweater vest under his navy suit with one of his fun blue striped ties, he leans against the wall to the kitchen as you unpack watching you.

Pulling down two plates and some utensils you set down to prepare his plate and yours. With care you ask him how much rice he wants, the number of spring rolls, amount of dipping sauce and the spicy tofu with veggies along with some orange chicken. You gesture him to sit as you make your plate and pour two cups of barley tea.

“Come on, I’m sure you are as hungry as I am. This is supper.” You try to hide a smirk forming in the corner of your lips, “And you are dessert.” As soon as you’ve spoken Wilson has embraced you in a giant hug from behind. 

“Oh, that’s what **_you_** are thinking! I’d say you’re **_dessert_**!” and he nibbles at your neck, his soft hair swishing against your skin. You laugh as he kisses you a few times before turning you around.

“Shit, I’ve missed you, but you’re right. I’m famished.” Wilson kisses you one last time on the forehead and releases you so that the two of you can enjoy your meal. Keith watches the two of you from the floor as your feet occasionally bump into each other. As your bellies fill, you can focus more on Wilson and he’s smiling at you his eyes playfully looking at you from under this think lashes.

Instead of moving straight to dessert, Wilson asks you about your trip home and your body thanks him as it will give some time for things to settle. He listens with purpose asking about relatives, what you did with your family and how the previous night went. You tell him how the only disappointing thing was going out for drinks last night and he wonders why. Nods of understanding make you feel like you are okay not wanting to get in a life success pissing contest and only one thing was decent while you were out.

Blushing, you look at the empty plate as you are playing with a single chopstick, before you tell him it was his text.

Wilson then blushes as he turns his teacup between his fingers and he finally asks what you did about that. Still blushing, you ruffle your hair and look slowly back at his eyes when you admit that when the others asked what the text was, you told them it was your boyfriend. You then showed them the picture from the winter formal, told them he was an oncologist at the Princeton-Plainsboro Teaching Hospital and in the silence, you excused yourself to use the bathroom. When you returned the group was getting ready to settle the bill and you were soon on your way back to your parents’ house.

And with that Wilson laughs, his eyes sparkling with that boyish feeling, “Well, you really timed things perfectly! Though, I don’t think you were competing with them, were you?” He places his cheek in his hand as his elbow rests on the table and he looks at you smiling softly.

Feeling silly about the whole thing, you smile back. “Yeah, I guess I really wasn’t. I just was really happy.” You pause and feel your face on fire, you just admitted your deep feelings for him.

Wilson’s free hand reaches across the table and takes yours. “Well, if you’d believe it, I was beyond happy last night when I found your note and keys. Thank you.”

His warm hand squeezes yours reassuringly and his eyes look a little wet around the edges.

“You’re welcome.” You sigh as you release his hand and stand up, “And before we get distracted, this needs to be tidied up.”

Wilson nods in agreement and then tells you that he needs to grab his clothing from the car after you are done washing the dishes. While you set the washing machine to a dry cycle and remove other items to air dry, he pops down to grab his things. When he returns, he walks into your bedroom and you don’t notice that he shut the door until you step out to find the rest of the apartment empty and the bedroom door shut, Keith seated outside of it watching silently for it to swing open.

Standing next to Keith, you rap on the door before asking Wilson if it is okay to come in. He shouts a quick nervous reply. “Oh no! Not just yet! Give me a few more minutes!”

You shout back that you’ll be waiting on the couch.

A few minutes later the door opens and the scent of jasmine wafts into the living room as Wilson stands in the doorway blocking most of your view. He shuts the door behind himself and walks up to the couch offering you his hand. “If the Miss would come with me.” He smoothly smiles as a single eyebrow arches up, confident as he leads you to the bedroom your left hand in his right. He smiles back at you over his shoulder as he opens the door leading you into your bedroom. He peels back like a game show host revealing the grand prize to the audience.

The entire room is illuminated by candles, flicking and shifting the light. A stick of incense burns on the dresser, clearly the source of the jasmine scent and you look at your bed. Burgundy sheets are now on your bed, the pillows fluffed up and he leads you closer before he lets go of your hand allowing you to inspect the bed. It feels like time has slowed down and you are moving through molasses as you reach your bed. The bedsheets have a sheen to them, you run your hands along them, the feel smooth, either a type of satin or – you look back at him and ask him with a single word – silk?

Wilson smiles proudly, “Yes, they are indeed silk sheets. I wasn’t sure what color to get, but then I remembered how good your dark red lipstick looked with your skin, so I figured they would look good – with you.”

He’s grinning like an idiot, “And by the way, I bought these after we went out to dinner at Cloud.”

Your knees feel weak as you sit down on top of the sheets running your hands over them. The texture feels like nothing you’ve laid on before and your brain begins to calculate how early this plan was created in his mind . . . fuck . . . if Wilson were an evil villain, he’d always succeed based on his dedication to planning and details.

The bed sinks as Wilson sits down next to you his hands taking yours. He looks at you, waiting for a reply, “What do you think?”

Blushing, you struggling to find words to reply, “I don’t know, I’m without words.” 

Wilson laughs as his nose touches yours, “Rare for me to get you tongue-tied. Well, I’m not quite ready, may I make a request?”

You nod and allow for him to elaborate – he’d like you to slide under the sheets, naked while he washes up in the bathroom. He wants to see how flattering the sheets look on you. Your brain crashes for a moment – damn you, smooth operator Doctor James Wilson . . . you are a master of seduction. As your brain reboots, you assure him that you can do that and he leans in to kiss you chastely on the lips, as he pulls back, he reaches into his pocket and produces – a tube of your brand liquid lipstick in a shade that exactly matches the sheets. He presses the tube into your lips.

Speaking in low and hushed tone, he places the lipstick in your hands, “One last thing, I don’t want you completely naked. Use this.” And with that he slides off the bed and turns to exit the bedroom. You hear the sound of the sink running and you look down at the lipstick. 

_When the hell did he have the time to figure out your exact brand of lipstick, find the shade that matched the sheets, and order them all in time?_

You can’t believe this as you think about his attention to detail. Feeling a type of attention that you have never experienced with a partner before, you take a few deep breaths centering yourself. 

First, you carefully apply the lipstick sitting on the floor in front of your full-length mirror. The color is striking and looks dramatic on you, it looks sexy. After it dries you remove your clothing and fold it in a neat pile in a corner. The scent of jasmine is heavy, and you feel the cool air over your body. When you pull the sheets back you catch glimpses of something scattered underneath, white petals?!?! Lifting one up between your fingers you inspect it in the dim light, it appears to be a white rose petal, the light scent tickling your nose. Overwhelmed, you slide under the sheets the smooth texture drawing your attention to your skin and a few petals stick to you as you position yourself. 

Nervously, you wait, wondering what else he has in store for you. After a painful period of waiting, the door opens and Wilson steps in. He’s wearing a simple black robe that looks soft and fuzzy.

“Comfortable?” He asks you as he approaches, a hunger mixed with a need to please you. The candlelight flickers softening his appearance; his eyes more a shade of black than chocolate brown.

“I am. The rose petals are a nice touch.” You smile at him as he crawls onto the bed hovering over you under the covers only your shoulders exposed.

“I’m glad you appreciate it. May I see what you look like under the sheet?” He reaches out and pulls the bed sheet back revealing all of you below him. He pauses and his eyes look at you as you watch his face. A look of soft appreciation settles over his face and he finally speaks after licking his lips.

“I can’t believe how incredible you look right now.” His left hand reaches out and slides down your cheek, to your shoulder all the way down to your waist. “This is better than I imagined.”

You control your blushing and focus on making the next move. Reaching up with your arms, you pull him down onto you, “It is time to take things from your imagination into reality.” He pauses for an instant looking deeply into your eyes, before he leans down to kiss you hot and passionately. The robe is soft and fuzzy, and the texture is the opposite of the silk sheets below your body. 

Sighing into his kisses you understand what he has done, he’s created a bedroom of sensual pleasure and you thank him silently through your touches. Tonight, you’ll let him take the lead as you are certain he has particular things in mind for this entire environment.

Long after the incense has burnt out and the scent only lightly hangs in the air you lie upon Wilson’s chest listening to his heartbeat, his left arm wrapped around you the sheets along you lower bodies.

“What did you think?” Wilson’s voice interrupts your thoughts, his fingers lightly stroking your bare back. Glancing up at his face, you think of a reply. You can’t have him making you speechless twice in one evening.

“I think – I think it was incredible. The textures were amazing, the cool smooth contrast of the silk with the soft fuzziness of your robe, which then changed to you. Your skin.” You keep your eyes on his face as he looks back at you.

“I’m so glad you appreciated it, I thought since you are such an attentive person, you’d like this. Plus.” Wilson has his shit eating grin as he pauses, “You have no idea how nice it feels to wake up in the morning with silk sheets.”

He laughs and you can’t help but to join him. 

Later, the two of you settle in for chaste slumber, Wilson pulls your comforter up over the silk sheets and insists that even though it is winter, the only option is to sleep in the nude.

As you drift off to sleep you can’t help but agree with him as he snuggles up next to you and the silk relaxes your entire body.

* * *

Wilson wakes up as Keith paws at him in the cold dark of the winter pre-dawn light. Quietly, he places his finger over his lips and shushes Keith as he puts on his slippers and robe. No feline is going to interrupt his plans for this morning. 

With feline eyes away and the door shut behind them, Wilson slides back under the covers and watches his girlfriend asleep. The dark red lipstick was removed last night, and he misses how it accented her body against the sheets – it was beautiful. Then again, many women are beautiful, but most aren’t as flexible as she is when it came to communication in bed.

He smiles to himself as he snuggles up next to her and closes his eyes for a little bit, he wants to sweetly, softly make love to her this morning, but first he appreciates her presence. As the light in the room brightens a touch, making everything look shades of grey and lavender and soft hues of purple, he works to rouse her from her slumber.

Much later as the sun light begins to peek around the low-rise buildings, Wilson hums to himself contentedly as his head rests on her bare chest. Her fingers tangle into his hair, and in this sublimely peaceful moment he speaks. He tells her about his conversation with House on Christmas. She gestures for him to come closer and they roll onto their sides looking at each other across the small gap between the pillows. Her hands firmly hold and reassure him that she’s there and he beings to tell her all the intimate details and the emotions linked to them.

She listens with no judgement, instead, she calmly watches him, letting him go at his own pace. When he’s talked to the end, including the bit about collapsing into her bed she pulls him in for a hug, her hands stroking his hair, her lips kissing the top of his head, his forehead before she innocently kisses him on the lips. “Thank you.” Her voice is filled with relief, happiness, and most of all, true gratitude for his honesty.

Wilson smiles and his hands roll her on top of him, his hands settling on her waist. “You’re welcome.” He can’t stop smiling as he feels so free. A lightness grows out from his chest and moves out to his limbs almost tingling his fingers and toes. 

In that moment he knew that the emotional burden and guilt that he had been carrying all these years since Amber died had completely lifted. He found forgiveness for himself, for House and most importantly acceptance in his girlfriend. Feeling almost giddy, his hands roam her bare back as he pulls her down to him as she kisses him softly. Her tongue slides between his lips and sighing he begins to slide beneath her, the silk warming up from their movement. The outcome is predictable; later she’ll joke with him when they finally pull themselves out of bed, he’s simply incorrigible with a smile.

The rest of the day, they work on packing clothing for their trip. He explains how Brenda’s daughter is an aspiring veterinarian at the local high school and was looking to make a few bucks. In case of an emergency, he provided all the info with Brenda as well and he’s certain Keith will be in good hands while you are away. Their flight is at six thirty tomorrow morning, and he runs back to his condo to pack his suitcase while she makes a quick lunch and cleans up the bathroom and a few other spots – something about not liking to return to a dirty place after vacation.

Taking advantage of his alone time, Wilson packs mainly casual clothing, sweaters, collared shirts, and warmer pants, either wool or corduroy. Along with all of his items, he pulls out a fancy thin box, gold paper on the outside. Inside is a lingerie set. It consists of a burgundy silk camisole, with a structured top and loose back that opens with a slit. There is a matching pair of shorts, that have lace panels on the sides. Lastly, there is a garter belt with opaque matching thigh high tights that have a lace band at the top. 

Wilson intends for them to have a low-key New Year’s Eve, but he would like to see her wear underwear that matched. Out of all the women he’s been with, she’s the most atypical, never once having matching underwear. He completely understands the need for comfortable undergarments, but very much like his best friend, he’s certain that she just can’t be bothered to care, deeming them unnecessary and irrelevant. Firmly holding the box, he wraps it in a brown paper bag to protect the package and hopes she’ll be okay with this request.

After triple checking his condo, making sure a tap is slightly dripping in case there is a cold snap, he turns off all his appliances that are not critical and confirms his housekeeper will come by on the 2nd to do her biweekly cleaning. Nodding to himself and the condo, he shuts the door and wheels his suitcase, travel bag and small billfold with his passport, Canadian currency and the contact info for a few friends from McGill.

With the early wake up time for their flight, they head to bed early and have even their clothing laid out ready to go for the next morning. The sound of her alarm clock goes off at three in the morning, so early that it is random acoustic music programming on the NPR station, reminiscent of the CBC Radio 2 program, Brave New Waves.

Keith looks at both of them perplexed wondering what they are doing. He sits on the bed watching them as they sleepily put on their clothing while the kettle boils. Coffee in hand, they pet Keith and in silent hours of the night, they quietly exit the apartment, leaving Keith confused.

Wilson yawns and feels the warmth of the coffee fill him as they make crunching sounds over the brittle snow on the ground. It is bitterly cold, and Wilson is glad he kept the taps open at his place. She triple checks the bags, their passports and satisfied, sleepily announces they are ready to go.

The drive to the airport is as empty and cold as the temperature, he thinks how if it is this cold in Jersey, it will be colder in Quebec. Thankfully, the airport is not busy at all and they quickly check in, drop off their bags and clear security. Both tired they lean into each other at the gate, napping waiting for their boarding time to post.

Wilson has the window and he bundles his scarf up making a pillow for him. His girlfriend, moves the armrest between them and wraps her scarf across her chest as she snuggles into him. The plane is half empty and the steward and stewardess dim the cabin lights as soon as possible and the propeller driven aircraft slowly takes them closer to their destination. They are gently, woken up for landing, as Canadian aviation policies require them to be upright and the windows open. Trudeau airport is buzzing with people making connections, while they follow the directions to the customs hall. A customs agent immediately greets them in French, his girlfriend replies in not-so-great French, “ _Pardon; en Anglais s’il vous plait_.” The customs officer replies that he’s surprised, he thought for sure she was French.

She politely replies that she gets that a lot, as she hands him the strip of paper for the customs declaration. The man quickly looks at her paperwork and waves her through with no questions at all and wishes her a Happy New Year.

She gestures that she’ll be waiting down at the baggage claim for him.

Wilson is prepared to dust off his rusty French, but the man, realizing they are together, greets him in English while checking his customs declaration print out. “Mr. Wilson, it has been some time since you’ve last been to Quebec. Did you study here?”

He smiles, replying that he did his undergrad at McGill and he had a medical conference here in the late 90s. The man hands him his passport and form back and he makes his way to the baggage claim where his girlfriend intently stares at an empty carousel almost willing it to begin to spin, spitting bags up from below the structure.

Stifling a yawn, he joins her and they exit the hall handing off the paper forms and she heads towards the sign indicating transit while he turns for the taxi stand. 

“Oh nononono! We are on vacation; we are taking a taxi.” He reaches out and drags her along as she tries to protest that it is expensive! Wilson laughs, and she finally relents doing the math of how much money he must make.

Using his rusty French, he gives their hotel address to the taxi driver and quickly they head towards the city center, where the boutique hotel is located. It is just barely in the West End, and it was a steal for two reasons; one – there had been a last minute cancellation and a room opened up and two – the hotel was run by one of the other members of his swing dancing club whom he kept in touch with through yearly letters around the holidays.

They walk into the art Deco building, the interior looking like it was straight out of the nineteen twenties. Art Deco and Art Nouveau style décor have been painstakingly restored and the lobby was beautiful. He watched as she looked around, a small smile forming dimples at the corners of her lips. They checked in and due to his luck, he knew the room would be ready this early. A small elevator takes them up to the tenth floor, the top, they make their way to one of the fancier suites. Before opening the door, Wilson turns to her, “Now this isn’t usual for me – we lucked out as this room became available at the last minute due to a cancellation. I don’t want you to think this is normal for me.” As they enter both of them gasp in awe. The room isn’t huge but it is lush; there is a small sitting area, indoor plants are spread throughout and dark polished wood is highlighted by bronze colored metal accents. There is a small foyer for their coats and plenty of space for shoes and boots. They walk into the bedroom where a queen size bed dominates the center of the room, a fireplace is across from it and large bay windows open to a balcony outside.

Wilson places his suitcase down while she walks into the bathroom. “Holy shit! Check this out.” Her voice echoes and he walks in, only to see her standing in the middle in shock. A large ornate bathtub in the shape of a seashell is the centerpiece, and a shower off to the side. Another door leads to the toilet and a sink, and there is another sink across from the bathtub. Gold colored peacocks adorn the tap that fills the tub and toiletries, and towels are displayed for maximum social media potential. 

“This is insane. Talk about luck – not like you know the owner or anything like that.” She nudges him with her hip, and he wraps an arm around her. 

Clearing his throat, “Actually, I do. She was in the swing dancing club at McGill when I was. She double majored in art history and business management.”

Her head tilts as she determines his reply. “Well. That is some connection.”

Wilson laughs as another yawn escapes. “I think it is best if we take a quick nap, I want to make it to a museum today before dinner.” She agrees with him and they collapse into the bed. Just before one, they are out the door to head to the McCord museum and a new art gallery that opened earlier in the year that Wilson was recommended to check out by the hotel owner.

Bundled up in their winter clothes, Wilson offers his arm to her and he hails a taxi. She rolls her eyes and he replies that they will take the Metro back after the museums. And with that, Wilson settles into the cab as she watches the scenery go by. He notices conflicted emotions on her face, both an excitement at the city but also something deeper darker is beneath that. Loss or disappointment . . . only then does his brain remember how the customs agent didn’t even bother to question her. Could that disappointment be related to that?

This isn’t the time ask her; by time they reach the McCord, she looks normal and they spend the next hour refreshing themselves on the history of Montreal and look at the rotating exhibit on photography.

The gallery is amazing, full of room size installations by various artists that are up and coming in the Canadian scene. Most of them are between the ages of twenty-five and thirty-five and the place is fairly empty as people must be preparing for parties tomorrow night.

Using Yelp and Urban Spoon they are able to find an Indonesian place that has delicious vegetarian food. They split a sampler platter with soup, steamed rice with coconut milk, two types of curry, fried plantains and tofu skewers with peanut sauce. 

Warm and full, she drags him to the nearest Metro stop and buys them tickets leading him through the turnstiles to the platform below with the sky-blue subway cars that run on wheels. Even though it is early, they are exhausted and quickly find their way into the lush bed. She snuggles into his side and before he realizes it, it is the next morning; New Year’s Eve.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And things come to an end. I didn't even make it to New Year's Eve? What does Wilson have planned? What else will they do and enjoy (beside have sex obviously!)
> 
> Other random tidbits - Of course House would have a shoe system of organization like a map in the board game battleship.
> 
> I pulled out all the stops for romantic Wilson, I hope you enjoyed it as much as I had fun writing it. Including the awesome cheesy puns!
> 
> The hotel is completely fictional - I made it up because I like those forms of art and it fits my story. The McCord museum is indeed real as well as all sorts of innovative art galleries in the city that shift and change over time like all metropolitan areas. I went to an Indonesian place the last time I was in Montreal - or maybe the second to last? Either way, it was delicious.
> 
> As I spent many years as a poor student, I have an aversion to taking taxis while traveling even if I'm on vacation. My brain does the math and always finds a transit fare or tourist transit pass to be a better use of my money. Only recently have I felt okay taking a taxi to get places while on vacation.
> 
> Lastly, I have a running count of the number of Canadian airport/customs/border agents that have addressed me in French despite not being a Francophone. Currently, these locations include, Calgary, Saskatoon, Toronto, Montreal and Halifax.


	30. ringing in the new year

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Celebrating the New Year with Wilson! In Montreal! Yeah!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've only been to Montreal a few times so I apologize for the vague information and descriptions at times. I have been to the Botanical Garden more than once, but not during the winter so I made a guess at what it would be like.
> 
> The google machine told me the current top poutine places. I can't remember where I went the last time I was there, I thought it was on Rue Ontario, but places like those change all the time.

You slowly wake up, feeling out of place realizing you aren’t in your bed, you are at the chic hotel. There is always something disconcerting when you wake up on vacation in a foreign room. Rolling over, you see Wilson asleep with his back to you. The room is still quite dark, and the curtains make it hard to tell if you are up incredibly early or if they are high quality blackout ones. Squinting at the clock, you determine it is a little after seven, perhaps, too early to be up on vacation!

However, nature calls, and you slide out from the Art Deco themed floral bedding and quietly make your way into the extravagant bathroom. The tile floor is cold on your bare feet and you can’t wait to dive back under the covers. Wilson is still out cold when you return, his face relaxed as he drools a little on the pillow. Making use of his warmth, you snuggle up behind him to spoon and you get comfortable again. You wrap your arm around him, and Wilson stirs for an instant before realizing it is you and he hums contentedly.

The two of you lie like this for some time and you fall back into a light sleep matching his slow and steady breathing. When you wake up again, it is because he’s trying to carefully extract himself from your embrace without disturbing you.

“Sorry. I gotta piss.” He smiles at you after informing you of this fact, almost apologizing for waking you. After a flush of the toilet and the sound of the tap, Wilson comes rushing quickly back into the bedroom and the bed, “Cold cold cold! Man, that floor is freezing!”

You giggle as he leaps onto the bed and messily burrows back under the covers with you. “Warm me up!” and he nuzzles your neck as the rest of him presses you back into the mattress under him.

You mock try to prevent him from leeching any heat from your body knowing damn well what is going to happen; his fingers slide under your top and hold onto your waist before he leans in to kiss you energetically on the lips. Gently, you grasp his hair with your left hand while your right settles on his back, fingertips pressing into his back with encouragement. Wilson hums into your mouth as his hands begin to roam underneath your clothing.

Slowly, articles of clothing are divested and the two of you are rolling around in the bedsheets until both of you are wide awake and a bit of the sweaty side. Looking at his messy hair and thick eyebrows you reach out and ruffle it one last time. “So, what is on the agenda today?” You lift your brows for emphasis.

He pulls you closer smiling softly. “Well, first we are going to get some breakfast at a café that I used to frequent when I was an undergrad here. Then, we will head to the botanical garden to enjoy the limited daylight.” 

You can’t help but smile, it is cute that he is choosing a mix of things that are important to him, like visiting an old haunt, and realizing you like going to the botanical garden. As he pauses for a moment during his explanation you find yourself chastely kissing him, “That sounds nice.” He’s blushing slightly, you seem to have disrupted his calm.

Clearing his throat, he continues, “After the garden, we will get a light lunch, well poutine from one of the current popular locations. We will then slowly make our way back to the hotel. Since I wanted to do something low-key and easy to leave, we are going to the small party here at the hotel. Dinner and drinks are in the restaurant and there will be music and dancing, but nothing huge.”

You nudge your nose to his as you smile. “Thanks for not picking something overwhelming. I appreciate the chance to peel off quickly as well.” It is hard to keep your composure; you are beyond impressed with his itinerary and introvert friendly schedule. It truly makes you feel **_loved_**. In the moment you realize just how serious things are. Sure, you finally gave him a copy of your keys, but the way that he didn’t just pick activities that have mass appeal or are typical or expected. He purposely chose to combine your interests and while considering how you would react or feel to them. 

And it hits you right in the ‘feels’ as other introverted analytical nerds would say. You feel a warmth under your skin and your eyes begin to tear up. Surprised, you jerk back, shocked at your obvious display of emotions. 

Touching the corner of your eye, you feel that you have to explain or at least say something, “Oh, shit. Sorry, I seem to be ah, um. Why am I . . .” and you decide it is better to shut up than to blather on and you look away from him.

Wilson speaks softly, “Ssshhh. You don’t need to say something.” His hands firmly hold onto your body and he lets you get away with not being ‘touchy-feely’ and then he hugs you. It feels comforting and you calm down as your emotional response fades. It seems like you might become distracted until your stomach rumbles loudly, reminding you that food is important.

Breaking the moment, you laugh and Wilson notes that it is clear you need some breakfast. Both of you dress simply, warm knit sweaters and equally warm bottoms. Wilson has opted for dark brown corduroy pants that flatter his figure a little more than his ill-fitting jeans, and the oatmeal-colored sweater and the salmon and cream striped shirt. He must really like that combination, but in all honestly, it is flattering on him. You are wearing the now infamous navy sweater and long plaid wool skirt in navy and red. Underneath you wear winter tights and thin wool socks.

Both of you put on the layers of outerwear and accessories and finally are able to head out for breakfast. The café is close to the McGill campus off of Sherbrooke on a cross street. With the students away for the winter break, it lacks that buzz that is normally present in an establishment like this. The food and coffee are nothing remarkable but above average. Having a chocolate croissant also helps in your assessment. Wilson waxes nostalgic about what has remained the same and what is different from his student days. You watch him closely as he gets a faraway look in his eyes thinking about what it was like before medical school. How, that when you are twenty-one it seems the future possibilities are endless; you can do so much, and your future is before you.

It is not surprising at all that he’s the nostalgic type, you’ve noticed this as your relationship has progressed. What is important is that you recognize that this is important to him and you respect it even if it does not matter to you.

From there you walk to the Metro to take the Green line to the botanical garden, arriving around ten-thirty. The contrast from the dim subway system to the bright sunny day at the Pie IX station leaves you blinking and covering your eyes for a moment. It is a cold day, around -10 degrees Celsius and it tickles your nose reminding you if it gets any colder you enter the snot feeling like it is freezing in your nose phase.

Due to the low temperature the snow is particularly crunchy, and your breath is clearly visible in the air around you. Looking at the Olympic tower surrounded by a white blanket of snow it seems to be hiding as the bright blue sky is mainly clear with a few whispy clouds. “I’ve never been here in the winter. Looks quite different.” 

Wilson looks at you, carefully pondering that statement, but he doesn’t immediately reply. You get the feeling that he’s trying to figure something out yet he’s missing too many pieces to put part of the puzzle together.

“I guess it does. I really didn’t come out here that much when I lived here.” He gestures to the large plaza with all the flags, “Though it is interesting to see it now.” The two of you settle into a quiet and comfortable silence again. Very few people are around and the paths to the garden entrance are empty. 

Most of the beauty of the garden is hidden under a coating of snow, yet the two of you decide to walk as much of the grounds as possible. The Chinese and Japanese gardens look unusual as the architectural elements stand out among the snow, most of the plants not visible. Even though it would make sense that these gardens would see winter and snow, it goes against the image in you head. The ponds are frozen over, and it extends to how you feel and act. Since entering the garden, neither you nor Wilson have spoken much. It isn’t that you need to talk to each other, it seems like it would interrupt the silence of the snow-covered landscape. As the two of you walk through the mainly empty grounds, your conversation shifts to touches. Tugging at his sleeve and pointing out something; his hand on the back of your wool coat; leaning into one other when stopping to admire something.

Finally, after walking all the way back to the tree pavilion and look at the native bonsai trees, both of you are ready for a hot beverage and some time to warm up. You return to the main building and visit the greenhouses. There, your conversation returns as you point out beautiful tropical plants as you carry your coats between your arms. The Mediterranean garden is your favorite with a slightly drier climate and the smell of light citrus and jasmine in the air. Of course, the visit ends with a stop at the café for a cup of hot coca and an obligatory stop in the gift shop to see if there is anything interesting. Being the big spender that you are, you buy a magnet for your fridge. It might as well be functional and support the organization! Wilson teases you but refrains from buying anything stating he knows what he wants to take back to PPTH.

When you depart, it is just about one, and Wilson looks up the best route to get to the poutine place, La Banquise. It is open twenty-four hours a day and has microbrew beers on tap as well as some of the most talked about poutine in the city. Again, it isn’t super busy, but more people are there than were at the garden for obvious reasons; it is indoors, is warm and **_has poutine_**.

Settling into a small table, a waitress quickly comes to take your orders; a blonde for you and a red for Wilson. You decide to be a little experimental and try the vegan poutine, knowing what the original tastes like. And speaking of the original, Wilson goes for the classic original style poutine. The beers a crisp and refreshing and when the hot plates of poutine arrive, help to cut through the heaviness of the dishes. You are glad you chose a light beer and Wilson even asks to try yours, curious how vegan poutine can be executed.

It tastes pretty good in your opinion, the only part that seems a bit odd is the non-dairy cheese, but the vegetable-based gravy more than makes up for it. The background music catches your attention as you enjoy a snack that is really more than enough lunch, and you think back to when you first bought the album.

**_Real estate sales are the oldest turf war  
_**

**_We've got P? so you know it hurts more_ **

**_You're on a lease if you're major label_ **

**_I made a deal today with selling real estate_ **

The rest of the song continues on and you can’t help but comment you are surprised. Cadence Weapon’s album ‘Afterparty Babies’ was a motivational album for you, but the song that currently plays in the background ‘Real Estate’ happens to be one of your favorite tracks both due to the fun sound and the ironic lyrics and the awesome music video that matches it. Sure, it is low budget and was filmed likely in Edmonton, but the fake real estate commercial aspect of the video gets you every time with the “Free lawn penguin” joke.

Wilson notices you smirking to yourself, “You want let me in on something?” he seems curious as to what is amusing you besides the poutine and beer.

You take the next few minutes to explain that you really enjoy the song that is coming to an end, that it is from the artist Cadence Weapon and that album is important to you. It was your motivational album to get you to finish up your graduate studies and move on. You don’t listen to it very frequently anymore, but at the time, when you felt down or stuck, it helped you to push onward.

He listens to you carefully, his chin in his hand nodding along until the waitress returns to check in with the two of you. Feeling bold, he orders another beer, and you join him – you have no place to be and it seems like the right thing to do at this moment. The conversation bleeds into him telling stories of his time in the city and how he took advantage of the younger drinking age, cheap eats and late nights after long hours in the lab or study sessions.

Wilson talks about the group house he lived in with a bunch of dudes; at the time it was his first taste of freedom after a first year in residence on campus. As he describes the house he shudders at how questionable and gross many elements of place was. The bathroom was barely tolerable, and the kitchen existed in name only. Pre-packaged food, beer, liquor, mis-matched dishes and a set of pots and pans from a secondhand shop or classmates that graduated and moved out.

Due to his status as a Biology major with pre-med intentions, he wasn’t at the house all that much. He slept, showered and then trudged off to campus. In is limited spare time, he was either swing dancing or acting and frequently crashed at the apartments of others just so he didn’t have to lose sleep heading back to his crappy small bedroom in the house.

By time he reached his fourth year, he had moved into a small studio apartment close to campus and it served as a place to keep his minimal possessions and where he could sleep, eat breakfast and return to. He gestures for emphasis; it was easy to keep clean not having to worry about others. Wilson’s dive into his past ends as you finish your pints, and the place gets louder and busier. Even though it is around three, daylight is fading quickly and after settling the bill, the two of you return to the hotel. 

Wilson made dinner reservations for seven; the two of you have a few hours to relax. An afternoon yawn catches you by surprise and you settle down on the fancy plush couch in the sitting room of the hotel suite. He sits down next to you smiling as he lays his head on your lap. It may be adorable, but it makes it difficult for you to get as comfortable as you’d like, and you redirect him to lay next to you. Wilson hums as he positions himself in front of you and you can smell the faint trace of his cologne from his neck. It relaxes you and both of you drift off to sleep.

* * *

After napping on the couch, Wilson wakes up to a dusky room the sun well below the horizon. Checking the time, he sees it is just after five, they have plenty of time to get ready to head downstairs for a fancy dinner before joining the low-key festivities. He gently rouses his girlfriend, and she seems confused for a minute. Clearly not someone who naps frequently based on her somewhat cranky demeanor. He squats down so he’s even with her head still laying down on the couch and leans forward to kiss her on the cheek with a laugh. Groggily she blushes and mumbles something.

“Hey there sleepyhead. I’m going to shower and change for dinner.” His words wake her up as the realization of their evening plans come back to her.

Rubbing her eyes and stretching, she finally replies, “Oh yeah. Dinner. I don’t need to shower so go ahead.”

As he heads to the bathroom, he glances back to watch her as she sits up and ruffles her hair a bit before she walks to the bedroom. He’s not sure when he wants to show her the lingerie he packed; it is a little harder if she doesn’t shower, he can’t intervene in her dressing process. Furrowing his brow, he thinks about what the best way would be to do it as he undresses and hops in the shower to clean up. Wilson didn’t get that sweaty or anything, but when it comes to events like this, he always feels like he needs to be the freshest as possible. Peak Wilson.

He shaves for the smoothest skin and uses one of his special colognes, one that has less spice and more musk and subtle notes of sandalwood and a hint of pine. Very manly he thinks to himself. With a white hotel towel wrapped around his waist he steps out into the bedroom to retrieve his precious hair dryer while she, still unchanged reads a book on the bed. Perhaps, he will be able to catch her before she changes after all and he smiles to himself.

“You almost done?” She just barely glances up from her book before returning to it.

“Yeah. I need to blow dry my hair and then I’ll get dressed. I’ll let you know when I’m done.” He watches her reply, a quick ‘okay.’ Without even looking back at him.

In addition to the dryer, he grabs his clothing for this evening, a modern three-piece suit made of charcoal colored Italian wool. He decided on a lilac-colored dress shirt to be fun and bright in contrast of the dark winter atmosphere. Even though she didn’t tell him to, he packed the black and pastel colored floral tie she bought just in case she wants to use it later. Plus, it looks really good on him.

Fully dressed except for the suitcoat he exits to find her still reading on the bed. Perfect, now is his chance and he digs out the small package. Clearing his throat and standing before her he presents the box to her, “Recently, I’ve been thinking about how we’ve been discussing about things we would like to do.”

He pauses as he watches her face, noticing the tie he’s wearing and then looking at the small gold box in her hands.

“One of my asks is in the box.” He then sits down next to her and watches her as she opens it.

She’s silent and curious at first, a look of excitement about what might be in the box. The excitement quickly evaporates and becomes an expression of bewilderment and confusion as she picks up the camisole confused in before her face. As the cami is above the rest of the contents, she glances at the matching underwear, tights and garter belt.

Turning to him and dropping the camisole in the box she speaks bluntly, “You bought underwear, for me. Why? I have plenty of underwear.” And she moves the box, now shut, off to the side of the bed and seems to be annoyed, confused and upset.

Wilson swallows nervously while ruffling the back of his hair looking at her trying to determine where he went wrong.

Fidgeting he looks at her under his brows, attempting to convey a feeling of hurt. He’s less hurt and more confused, but it won’t help if they both stare at each other confused.

“You do have plenty of underwear. It is just, well, none of your underwear matches and sometimes it is nice to” he stops and gestures with his right hand, “nice to look a woman in a matching underwear set. It is flattering and – and,” Wilson pauses as this is the **_first time_** he has to explain this. “And I find it incredibly sexy.”

His girlfriend is completely perplexed as her head tilts in thought. She chews on the corner of her lip, “You find this to be sexy? Isn’t it that a bit lame?”

Lame? What does she mean by this? All of the women that he’s been with previously not only accepted gifts like this easily and happily, but they had no issue modeling the items for him either. That’s **_the entire_** point of lingerie of this sort. It is made to be seen by your partner and show him how sexy you are . . .

This is not how things were supposed to go. Wilson finds himself at a loss for words for a minute as she gets up to head to the bathroom to get ready. “Wait.” He reaches out and stops her. “I’m honestly confused what is happening here.” His eyes plead with her to sit back down and talk about what is happening.

She pauses for a moment looking at him, “I don’t like it.”

Wilson has never heard this, and it is clear this is something more complicated than he realized. He pats on the bed next to him, “Come on, let’s talk about this.”

She makes a scoffing noise but sits down next to him crossing her arms in front of her chest taking and aggressive posture.

Smiling softly and ruffling his hair he speaks softly, “You don’t like this. What is it about that you don’t like?”

Looking away from him, she replies to the floor, “I dunno. I just don’t like things like this. It bothers me.”

The fact she won’t look at him, tells him that she does know why, she just doesn’t want to talk about it. He will have to tread gently as he gets to the point with soft statements. He asks if she doesn’t like the items themselves. Her reply is that they are fine. He wonders if it is the material or color. Again, she tells him they seem fine and the color is nice, not like it is light pink or something like that.

Reaching over her to grab the box, he opens it and shows it to her, “So, you don’t have an issue with any of these individual objects. Does this have to do something with you wearing them?”

She glances at him irritated but nods. For the first time in their relationship, Wilson thinks he truly understands what she meant by not communicating well in past relationships. There is something that she thought he knew or understood when in reality he has no idea what this issue is.

Picking up the camisole he looks at it and then her. “What makes you uncomfortable about something like this? You aren’t ashamed of your body or being sexual.”

She sighs and mutters her reply. “Objectification.” Her gaze is focused on the floor and she waits a moment before continuing, “I don’t like how items like this can be used to objectify women. It isn’t like there is a huge market for sexy men’s underwear.”

Wilson sighs and puts it back into the box, puts the lid on it and puts it behind them for the moment. He places his left hand on her knee and looks directly into her eyes.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t realize you felt this way about such things. It is just I’ve never seen you wear anything like this, and I thought you’d like it. Or be okay with it. I wanted to go down to dinner with you wearing this under your clothing. It would be a secret between us and when we’d return to the room, I’d be able to see you wearing it. It is something that I find incredibly sexy and hot.”

Wilson looks at his hand on her knee and waits to see what she will say.

“Is that why you are wearing one of the ties? You wanted to give me something that I desire tonight?” She relaxes and releases her arms from the crossed position, a good sign.

Meekly, he ruffles his hair and playfully looks at her, “Yes. I wouldn’t mind it if you wanted to use this tie tonight or later. The lingerie set is one of my asks. I never thought about it as something to objectify you, I just love having sex with my partner when she wears something like this.” Blushing for a pause he adds in one last point, “And, its hot.”

She turns back and grabs the box opening it again moving the contents around. “This is one of your bedroom requests?” He nods in reply.

“Well, I can’t wear the top under my dress to dinner, it doesn’t work with it. I’d consider the underwear and tights. I just wish you would have told me this directly.”

Wilson sighs in relief, “I’m sorry. It is just after you left the keys for me, I figured I could let you know of my intentions through physical gestures.”

His girlfriend puts the items down and brings her hand to her chin in thought. He is correct that she struggles to express what she wants or feels all the time through words, but maybe he threw her for a loop. Wilson does express himself through words and very obvious actions. 

She finally leans in and gives him a hug, “You’re right. I’m sorry. I frequently expect you to understand my actions, but I still expect you to tell me everything.”

The tension between them then begins to dissolve as he rubs her back reassuringly. As they release the hug he smiles at her as they look at each other, their eyes both hurt and comforted.

“Okay, you can’t wear the top, I’m more than okay with that. Will you put it on when we return to the room?” Wilson figures if he’s going to use his words he might as well stick to his original plans. He wiggles his eyebrows for emphasis. She laughs lightly before replying it will be okay.

Wilson leans in and kisses her on the cheek grinning in delight, thank you thank you thank you whispered quickly in her ear.

* * *

You are in the bathroom getting ready for the dinner and low-key festivities. The small box with the lingerie sits on the toilet while you freshen up. It still makes you feel a touch uncomfortable; it is something you just don’t get, but it seems really important **_to_** Wilson.

As you pull the tights up, you think about your disagreement. You’ve never dated anyone who didn’t let you just keep sulking as you didn’t want to tell the guy what you were thinking for various reasons. Even though that conversation was totally awkward, you don’t feel bad after telling him what you thought. Is this normal? 

Clipping the tights into place you move back and forth to see if it bothers you; overall it seems comfortable and you continue to dress with a bra that doesn’t leave bulky lines under the slinky dress you wore for the date to Cloud. The perfect balance of form-fitting and loose draping makes it work well with the tights, but then again, the skirt hits right above the knee.

Looking into the mirror you pause for moment to just think about things. You are here, in Montreal on trip with your boyfriend. This is not something you could have predicted at the beginning of the year, working a job that was destroying you and making you feel meaningless. Things certainly have changed, and you pull out your minimal make-up. There is the regular dark red lipstick and at the last minute you grabbed the burgundy one that Wilson gave you recently. You could wear that since it does match the sexy underwear set or do you wait till after dinner?

After an agonizing minute, you go with the dark red, you’ll wear the other one when you get back and change. All set you emerge from the bathroom to find Wilson watching the National in the sitting room. He glances at you out of the corner of his eyes, looking immediately at your legs below the skirt before he moves and gestures for you to join him on the couch.

You sit down next to him, your left thigh touches his right, and you address the TV, “Ah watching the National I see. Anything interesting news wise?”

His right arm wraps around your shoulders as he keeps his focus on the programming. “Nah, mainly just various well wishes from people, what is happening across Canada and the fact that it is minus 15 and the low tonight is minus 21.” He finally turns to look at you and gives you a squeeze, “So I’m really glad we are staying indoors.”

Wilson is so warm as he pulls you in and you can smell his cologne, it smells different than usual, more earthy. It tickles your nose, and he sighs while stretching all four of his limbs out. “Well, we have soooo far to go, but we should arrive on time for our reservation.” With that he stands up and offers his hand to you.

You get up and put on your heeled boots and he’s wearing a pair of his simple black oxfords. As the two of you exit the room and head to the elevator you use this time to examine his outfit since you didn’t pay much attention to it earlier other than the fact that he’s wearing one of the ties you bought, and he’s matched it perfectly with his lilac dress shirt. The charcoal-colored wool suit is a perfect color for him, soft and not too dark. Plus, the vest makes him look slimmer. That’s why he looked so good in the vintage suit you think to yourself; the vest makes him look slenderer than when he just has a dress shirt with pants. Not that he’s pudgy or anything, just that his regular outfit could be a bit better or less frumpy.

The elevator dings and the two of you enter and his left hand settles on your lower back as you take it down to the lobby. The small restaurant matches the Art Deco/Art Nouveau style with stylized floral motifs, gold/bronze accents and of course lots of plants and dark reds with pink highlights. You are immediately seated at a table for two and of course they have a special New Year’s Eve menu. Wilson smiles over his menu at you as he nudges your ankle with his foot. He’s clearly already thinking of the tights . . . Resisting temptation, you rise above his juvenile antics.

The menu even matches the aesthetic of the entire hotel and you finally decide on a fancy cheese plate with local pickled vegetables and fresh fruit. It comes with a side of fresh baked bread and a small cup of potato and leek soup to round out the variety.

“What are you going to get?” Wilson lowers his menu, indicating that he’s also made a decision. You reply and he nods along. He’s thinking along the same lines but with a charcuterie plate that includes a few cured meats in addition to the same sides as the cheese option.

A server soon approaches your table and she rapidly lists off their exhaustive list of drink options which is overwhelming. Wanting to not get an upset stomach or anything like that, you decide on their ginger infused seltzer forgoing alcohol until later. Wilson quirks up an eyebrow for a moment and selects the matching mixed drink, a ginger cocktail with spiced rum.

With drink orders taken care of, you are able to place your dinner orders and with that the two of you have a moment to look around at the impressive décor. It is nice, it isn’t too loud as music plays softly in the background and small parties are dining around you. Conversations in French and English or a combination of both can be heard as the clatter of dishes and occasional laughter surround you. Even with this environment you feel a quiet intimacy at the moment. The lighting is dimmer than normal and when the server brings your drinks you don’t really notice her, mainly you notice Wilson as he smiles at you across the table.

“You seem quiet. What’s on your mind?” Wilson has his chin in his hand, elbow on the table as he smiles at you, his eyes getting a sparkle in them.

You nudge the fork on the table in front of you, “Not much. I guess I’m just enjoying watching things.”

He laughs a little, “Yeah, this place does seem to lend to a calm vibe. When’s the last time you’ve gone out for New Year’s with someone?”

His question catches you by surprise as you sip your drink, when was the last time you spent New Year’s Eve with a boyfriend? It feels a little sad as you try to recall the last time you were dating someone over the winter holidays.

Clearing your throat, you tentatively reply, “Maybe fifteen years ago . . . I’m not quite sure . . .” and the statement just dies off. You don’t want to really follow up on the exact fuzzy details.

His facial expressions shift quickly from interest to one of concern and guilt for asking something like this, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to” he looks under thick brows and you gesture with your hands for him to not worry.

The tension is broken when your soup bread arrives; now both of you can comment on the food and how it tastes and if you like it or if it is just okay. Honestly, though, it is Montreal so most food is above average if not great in your experience.

The two of you then settle into enjoying the dinner and the fancy plates. They don’t look like that much but quickly fill up your bellies and you are thankful you decided to not have any alcohol just yet.

The sound of heels catches your attention as a woman is working her way between the tables. She’s wearing a vintage style dress, maybe a 1930s silhouette? Her dark hair is pulled back in a loose looking ponytail with curled edges. The two of you have just finished your main plates when she makes her way to the table.

“James! So good to see you!” her voice has a slight French accent as he gets up to hug her. 

Wilson smiles happily as he embraces her, “Marie, thanks so much for everything!” The two of them look at each other before both commenting that the other person looks good and they laugh. He then turns to you and you stand to shake her hand as he introduces you to her. 

The three of you chat for a few minutes. She and Wilson then agree to meet up at the bar after dinner and a few of their classmates from McGill will be coming by for a drink or two. Marie has a similar feeling that Wilson does, polished, polite yet clearly hardworking and good at managing people. She soon excuses herself after reminding that you should have dessert before heading over to the small banquet room for the party.

The mention of dessert seems like it can just barely fit in if you are to have a drink or two . . . but when the server informs you that they have a maple walnut ice cream you are sold. You can at least use the excuse to share it with Wilson!

The maple walnut ice cream is what you expected it to be and more. As someone with a penchant for maple flavored items it was of course delicious. Wilson helps you finish the bowl and as he settles the bill, you excuse yourself to the restroom.

The bathroom is on brand, with lovely design that is much lighter and brighter than the rest of the hotel that still matches perfectly. You can’t help but smile and relax, things have been a little odd, but when you look at the tights you think about how Wilson is into them and it moves something inside you just a touch. Maybe they will be fun later tonight?

Wilson finishes signing the credit card statement and he gestures you to follow him. His right hand reaches out to lead you by your left through a small hallway to the banquet room. It is more like a bar with a small dance floor and tables around the edges. Leading you to the bar, he asks you what you’d like and orders a rye and ginger for you and he gets another of the ginger rum drinks for himself. 

There is a dj setting up off to the side, with a modern set of gear. The dj however, is wearing a vintage suit, tie and a newsboy cap. The background music is turned off and he starts to spin a mix of swing, jazz and ragtime. Which you laugh as you hear it, since it would be completely on brand with this entire establishment. 

Wilson wraps his arm around your waist as he whispers in your ear, “I’m going to get you on the dance floor after this drink” and he kisses your cheek as he begins to move along to the music. 

You can only smile back, and you kiss him lightly on the lips, “I’m not surprised at that request at all.”

“James! Holy shit, it has been **_years_**!” A man’s voice turns your head and a group of well-dressed forty somethings approach. He continues, “I was shocked when Marie told me you were in town, but you actually are!”

And in a matter of mere minutes, you’ve been introduced to former friends and classmates – JB, Tom, Jason, Claire, Jeanne, and Ghislain. JB was the man who first spotted Wilson and he is a filmmaker and actor. Tom and Claire are both musicians and artists, while Jason works as an engineer and Jeanne and Ghislain are doctors. The group is friendly and easy to talk to and they are inviting. Sure enough, everyone feels the pull of the dance floor and off you go. Wilson ditched the jacket before even leading you onto the floor and he leads you grinning his head off. The group splits into couples with Tom and Claire, Jeanne and Ghislain dancing together and JB and Tom partner up joking that they aren’t a couple but really want to dance as Claire takes a break.

Wilson leans over and whispers in your ear that JB is Marie’s partner and he’s not sure of Tom’s current status. Jason declines to dance for the time being and instead chats with the dj as he flips through a stack of CDs and shows Jason something on his laptop. More people slowly fill the room, but it never becomes too crowded or cramped. Marie joins the group as another round of drinks are ordered and you talk about more banal things as Tom and Claire are very interested in transgenic plants and industrial agriculture. Wilson makes the rounds talking to his friends and every so often you’d catch yourself making eye contact with him and vice versa. 

The drinks lead to more dancing and everything seems warm and fuzzy around the edges as Wilson begins to sneak in more intimate touches and kisses on your cheeks. A glance at his watch, he lets you know it is just after ten. It feels much later than that, but it is winter and you are not in your early twenties. You whisper into his ear that you’d like to celebrate the New Year in the room. He nods and says he agrees with you – and asks if you are okay with leaving this party at eleven. It is a good idea, and he excuses himself to use the bathroom as you rejoin the group.

“He’s a good guy.” JB addresses you and you nod in reply. He continues, “I’m sure he’s a great doctor, but he could have made it in acting. Or at least well enough that he could pay the rent.”

You tell him that he mentioned acting for fun, when you went to a play in Princeton. JB smiles and it turns to a playful smirk, “Did he tell you about the film he acted in that I filmed for my fourth-year project?” 

“No, he mentioned something about an embarrassing movie in passing once.” As soon as you finish speaking, Wilson’s hand firmly grips JB’s shoulder from behind.

“And you are going to not mention that to my girlfriend before I decide if I want to mention it to my partner.” His voice is friendly but a coldness cuts through, making it clear that the film is not to be mentioned unless he approves of it.

JB nervously looks back and hangs his head, “Fine fine, though someday you will be proud of your acting.”

Wilson rolls his eyes as his hands settle on his hips. “Keep telling yourself that. Let’s talk about your current project for the NFB.” With his trademark politeness he’s got JB excitedly explaining how he got a grant from the National Film Board to film a slice of life short about an apartment complex on the south shore of Montreal (Longueuil). 

Glancing at his watch again, Wilson leads you back to the dance floor for a few more numbers. His hands seem eager to head upstairs soon as you feel his fingertips through the dress on your back pressing with more force than usual. Tom and Claire are still dancing energetically, but Jeanne and Ghislain have settled at a small table holding back yawns, JB is now dancing with Maire and the rest of the group chats about which live music venue they went to last. 

You whisper to Wilson that you aren’t sure if any of this group will make it to midnight; he laughs and replies that Tom, Claire, JB and Marie will but the rest will likely crash soon – just like they did in undergrad. Right at eleven, Wilson leads you off the floor and makes the rounds to wish everyone a happy New Year and you follow suit with a wave. He throws his jacket over his left shoulder and offers you his right and leads you back to the lobby and the elevator.

Another couple stumbles into the elevator with you quite intoxicated and making out with little concern for your presence. Thankfully, they get off at the fifth floor and you give Wilson’s arm a good squeeze.

He opens the door to the hotel room and allows you to enter before him. You are buzzed enough that your nerves aren’t as bad as you were expecting. “I, I ah am going to change.” Your voice gives away a touch of awkwardness, never having been in a situation like this before. 

Wilson smiles and leans in to kiss you on the lips. “I’ll be waiting in the bedroom.”

Back in the opulent bathroom you take your time; you remove the dress and bra and quickly wipe away any sweat with a damp washcloth and take a deep breath to steady yourself. You pull the camisole over your head, now coordinated with the garter belt holding up the tights over the underwear. 

Feeling your nervousness bubble up, you use the toilet and then add a fresh coat of lipstick, the burgundy color that Wilson had bought. One last deep breath and you look at your reflection in the mirror. It is still you, but sexier and matching. It does look flattering on you, but you still aren’t sure how you feel about it.

Hesitantly you walk into the bedroom where Wilson is laying on the bed looking up at the ceiling his hands behind his head. He’s taken off the jacket, rolled up his shirtsleeves but is still wearing the rest of his clothing. Including that very flattering vest.

“Hey.” You speak towards him and he turns to look at you as he sits up. His eyes are wide open like dinner plates as he silently looks at you, his eyes slowly starting at your face and making their way down to your feet.

Wilson moves so that he’s sitting on the edge of the bed, his feet on the floor. He gestures with his left hand for you to come closer as he swallows loudly. When you reach him, he reaches out and holds onto your waist over the loose camisole. “I, wow.” His fingers slide under the fabric and each fingertip feels hot over your bare skin and you make a slight noise in surprise at his touch.

He just keeps looking at you for another minute and you place your hands on the sides of his torso feeling the smooth silk back of the vest and the rougher wool on the front.

Wetting his lips with his tongue, he speaks softly, “You look amazing.” His eyes look directly at you, honest. “How do you feel? Are you okay?”

Looking down at him as you stand before him, you feel comfortable with him. He’s going to make sure this is something that you are cool with and you feel good. More than that you feel loved and appreciated. Not objectified as you had anticipated.

Nodding with what you hope is a reassuring smile you lean down to kiss him, “Yes. I’m okay.” His hands slide to your back while he leans back onto the bed pulling you on top of him, your legs straddling his waist.

Wilson closes his eyes as he kisses you and his hands roam over and under the top as he sighs contentedly. “Fuck, this is so hot.” His dark brown eyes look into yours inches apart, “Undress me, please.” His request turns you on and your fingers dive into his hair while you wrap your other hand around his back feeling the cool silk of the vest.

“Certainly.” Your one-word reply marks the start of your work to slowly remove most of his clothing. Languidly, the two of you make-out while his hands caress your body, occasionally sliding a finger under your tights, the garter belt or underwear. You start with his vest unbuttoning it before moving to his belt and pants. 

The entire process takes longer than expected as he can’t stop touching your body and he keeps distracting you as you try to undress him. However, this doesn’t bother you as it seems like you have more than enough time. Eventually, he’s down to his plain white t-shirt and boxers and the feeling of his skin is more noticeable with the lingerie on. 

With Wilson now wearing a similar amount of clothing to you now, he becomes more assertive as he wraps the tie around your waist to pull you closer to him while laughing to himself.

Wilson then takes charge as he pays attention to all aspects of your clothing before he removes all of it, finally ready for sexual intercourse. Everything up to this point was just foreplay – and you can’t help but appreciate his attention making you feel incredible, comfortable and safe with him.

He pulls out all the stops as he proceeds pleasure you so much that you are numb to him by the time he climaxes. His sweaty face rests between your breasts and you return to a resting state, playing with his loose and messy hair. 

Wilson then crawls up a bit so that his face is just above yours, “Happy New Year.” He smiles as he whispers it and kisses you deeply. You feel so emotional as you hold onto him. When he pulls back and lays off to your side you look at him, overwhelmed by feelings. “Happy New Year to you too.”

The two of you hug for a moment before he rolls off the bed. He uses the bathroom and returns with a glass of water, ibuprofen and a dopey smile. “Here. Hurry up and use the bathroom and get back to bed.” You feel his warm fingers has he hand over the glass and you feel the coolness of the water and suddenly you can tell how exhausted you are.

You brush your teeth and remove the long-lasting lipstick and before the toilet is even done flushing you are making your way into the bed where Wilson is waiting. The two of you snuggle up under the covers and he hums sleepily as you drift off to sleep. It was an interesting day and despite the awkwardness, it has all worked out and you feel content.

The sound of Wilson’s slow and steady breath indicates how quickly he’s fallen asleep and you listen to him as you soon feel safe and comfortable as you fall asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poutine. Is. Delicious. Regular poutine is a classic, but I've had vegan poutine and it is also very tasty. I was reminded of how red beers are common in Canada compared to the States. I'm not saying that red isn't an option in the States but the beer palette of the two countries are quite different and many Canadian brands have a white/red/blonde/dark set of options.
> 
> The National, the best nightly news programming. Oh how I have missed how on slow news days would have 'portraits of Canada' segments pre-recorded for days where there wasn't much to report. Or how there was a car accident in St. Johns and that was the big event of the day. 
> 
> Cadence Weapon is originally from Edmonton but moved to Montreal like all artists looking to become edgier while those who want to be more practical move to Toronto. I bought my copy of 'Afterparty Babies' over the new year in 2009 and damn I listened the crap out of the album that year. I saw him at the Garrison on Dundas West once. It was one of those small shows that wasn't very crowded and he was floating around. It turned out that he was freakking standing next to me during the instrumental band/side project of Brian Borcherdt from Halifax and part of Holy Fuck's set. Speaking of Holy Fuck I've seen them several times including when they were in Chicago at the Empty Bottle and then I chatted with the Handsome Furs . . . this makes me sound far more exciting that I am. I just had a habit of going to shows a small venues for about 7 years. Which meant you frequently bumped into the musicians and could talk with them in a non-awkward fashion.
> 
> Lastly, you should watch the video for Cadence Weapon's song 'Real Estate' it is hilarious.


	31. another new year

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Various individuals celebrate the New Year. Chase is looking for philosophical answers to his moral questions, Wilson and his girlfriend continue to navigate what it means to date each other and we learn a little bit more about Eva.
> 
> More touristy things in Montreal and of course, shopping.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Even though I haven't gone anywhere for American Thanksgiving, I decided to take a few days off, so I'm working hard on updating the fic before I get sucked into the end of the year chaos. It is already pretty hard in a normal year, but this year the exhaustion and lack of motivation is ten times worse than normal. I feel like I'm going to barely crawl across the finish line instead of walk over it.
> 
> And yes, there is some nudity but nothing explicit. But if you've made it this far in reading the fic, you'd already be aware of that.

On New Year’s Day, the sound of Chase’s cell phone alarm wakes him up in the dark. The small beat-up twin bed that he’s in squeaks in protest to him moving to turn off the alarm. The display reads, 5:31 am, January 1st. He signs as he pulls himself up exposing him to the cold of the small dormitory room for the retreat and meditation on the teachings of Thomas Merton. The tile floor is freezing, and he grabs fancy smart wool socks to put on before heading down the hall to use the bathroom.

Early morning meditation is to start at six in a small chapel on the campus and he wants to have enough layers of clothing to make it to breakfast.

Yesterday, he arrived at the small Catholic university and seminary for the retreat. He checked in at eleven, dropped his bags off in the assigned dorm room, and they assembled for a brief introduction by the theologian running the workshop. Everyone was handed out a binder full of readings, a notebook and over the next two days, they would turn their personal focus inward to discover new perspectives on their faith.

The afternoon session started out with a lecture about Thomas Merton and a break for a light lunch. Chase chatted with a few others in the outdated dining hall but kept to himself for obvious reasons. There was a Buddhist teacher for the second lecture followed by a round table discussion. This was followed by a guided meditation unit and then dinner. After dinner everyone was expected to do the readings outlined in their binders and then reconvene for a study hall to complete a self-reflection worksheet. Just after nine, he trudged up to the small dorm room to unpack clothing for tomorrow and carrying toiletries into the communal bathroom, something he hasn’t done since he was in the seminary. 

He reflects on his fancy personal care products as he shampoos his hair and recalls how he would have never spent ten bucks on a single bottle of shampoo then. Realizing how exhausted he is, he quickly finishes up and heads back to the simple dorm room. The twin bed is less than comfortable, but that isn’t why he’s here.

So, when he wakes up on New Year’s Day, he knows after the meditation, it will be obligatory Mass and then they will have breakfast. The meditation is a hybrid of Catholic tradition and Buddhist and he feels at peace as he allows his emotions from the past year to bubble up and float away.

The Mass seems more superficial to him, as he goes through all the motions on autopilot as it is just a ritual he is expected to perform. Starving for breakfast, he inhales the simple oatmeal with fruit and after having a coffee is able to talk with a few other attendees as they introduce themselves. There are more lectures, readings and discussions throughout the day before things will wrap up tomorrow morning.

Chase hopes that he’ll gain more perspective on his actions that pull at his mind and heart. Or at least he’ll learn something to help him to let go and move on . . .

* * *

Natural light rouses Wilson from his comfortable slumber. He looks over to see the hotel room window open as his girlfriend sits on a chair looking outside. It is just after sunrise and the golden hues cause all of the snow to glow on the buildings around them. She’s wrapped up in a blanket deep in thought watching something or perhaps nothing. Wilson is still laying on his side under the covers and he hasn’t moved to sit up yet; he wants to observe her for a moment.

His first instinct would be to get up and join her, but the air around her is full of sadness. A sadness that seems to be directed out the window. It was like that brief instant yesterday on the way to the botanical garden, there is something that she’s not telling him with words, but he now knows for sure there is something that ties the city to her.

As the light becomes brighter, he just watches her as she looks out the window, her expression distant. It is as though she doesn’t notice anything **_but_** whatever is outside, and the sadness slowly dissipates as the sun continues to rise. When only a small about of it remains around her, he gets up and walks silently over to her. He feels the cool air over his naked body, shivering slightly before he places his hand on her shoulder. “Hey.” His voice is barely above a whisper. Her head turns up to look at him and her eyes are wide open now, the narrow focus gone. “Mornin’.” She smiles slightly, “Did you just get up?”

Wilson decides to lie for the time being, and nods, “Yeah. What are you watching?”

“The sunrise. Now the empty morning.” She looks at him and it finally dawns on her that he’s standing next to her naked. “And you have got to be freezing.”

Wilson laughs, “I am a tad bit chilly. Can I join you under your blanket?”

She tilts her head in thought, “I was going to say yes, but I don’t think we’d fit comfortably on the chair together.”

Being an expert of personal grooming, he already has a better solution as his hands squeeze her bare shoulders under the blanket. Grinning, he replies, “I agree, and I have a better option.” Wiggling his eyebrows, he continues, “How about we make use of that ostentatious shell shaped bathtub?”

Her face lights up as she smirks, “Why am I not surprised?” Wilson leans down to kiss her on the lips lightly before he walks into the bathroom to fill up the tub. 

Steam floats up from the ornate tap as he periodically checks that it is the perfect temperature. He roots through the basket of fancy personal care products on the counter and finds a small citrus and spice bath salt. It smells seasonally appropriate, making him think of clementine and gingerbread. With the bath drawn, he pokes his head out of the bathroom and she uncurls from the blanket on the chair and walks over in the nude. 

The tub is large enough for both of them to sink in and they soak for a bit as the hot water relaxes their bodies and they wake up more. He of course offers to wash her hair and she accepts. Gently, he caresses her scalp, and she sighs contentedly in his care. Following his lead, they take turns shampooing each other, scrubbing body parts and letting the conditioner sink in a bit before rinsing and trying to prevent prune fingers.

Since she was up early, it isn’t all that late even with the luxurious bath, and his stomach rumbles loudly. Wilson suggests they head down to have breakfast at the hotel since most things will be closed. She’s fine with that, while they dress, she watches the forecast to see that it is looking to be a cold but clear and sunny day. 

“Since it is going to be sunny, why don’t we head up the mountain? I’ve got decent boots packed and I have a hunch you do too.” Her request isn’t something that he had in mind for today, he was just expecting a day of lounging around and then some museums and shopping tomorrow.

With the bright sun on the snow, the start of a New Year, it does sound like a good idea. Wilson says yes and she hugs him before she finishes putting another sweater on. Today she has plaid wool pants, warm socks and finishes the outfit with a form fitting grey sweater. It is simple but looks fashionable. He’s opted for the same pair of pants from yesterday with a t-shirt under a maroon crewneck sweater.

Breakfast is simple and filling. He tries to be as healthy as possible with oatmeal, scrambled egg whites, yogurt and a glass of orange juice with coffee. She is delighted that they have maple beans, which she enjoys with toast, scrambled eggs with ketchup and coffee. 

They check the weather forecast one more time to see the current temperature, minus fourteen and a high of minus twelve. Wow that is some change there he thinks to himself. They make sure to bundle up and putting practical winter boots, the kind that only come in brown or tan, have rubber grips and strong ankle support. Ready as he’ll ever be, they step out of the hotel to take the Metro a few stops to Peel station where they will head to the park and up the mountain. 

It is cold as they walk out of the hotel, he feels the dryness as his snot feels a bit stiff in his nostrils. He hasn’t missed this aspect of living in Montreal as a student. Princeton doesn’t have days that are this cold. His girlfriend smiles as she wiggles her nose, “Ah yes, cold winter temperatures.” They walk along the sidewalks, mainly clear since it did not snow last night, and all of the businesses are closed save for a denpanneur every few blocks. A few people are walking their dogs, wearing fancy coats in bright colors with reflective piping and even a few runners go by on the empty streets.

They stand while riding the empty train car and exit at Peel station. It is easy to orient themselves since they are heading up hill to the park. The clear sidewalk gives way to snow ploughed trails which crunch under their footsteps. Slowly but surely, they make their way up through the trails until they reach the lookout point, their breath indicating how cold it still is, but feeling much warmer from the hike. The downtown core is below them, snow covering all the buildings of the city and the sunlight sparkles off of the glass and steel. A bright blue sky adds to the contrast of the snow and it looks beautiful. 

His girlfriend pulls out her phone to take a picture of two having to remove her mitten for a minute. She takes a few shots of the panorama and is about to put her phone away when he stops her. 

“Let’s at least take a selfie or two.” He feels that they should at least have a picture with both of them. She huffs and teasing him that they need to do it quickly before her hand gets too cold.

They walk more of the trails, heading to the giant cross on the hill and see a few other people out and about while the rest of the city sleeps off their hangovers and denial of any resolutions. Before heading back down, his girlfriend asks to return to the look out one last time. Even with the cold, she seems to need to look at something again. This time as she looks out upon the city that cloud of sadness starts to appear and just before it forms into something more concrete, she shakes it off.

“This must look lovely at night, looking down over the city, lights sparkling.” She smiles faintly as she looks at him, waiting for a reply.

He reaches out and pulls her to his side as he hugs her. Smiling softly, he thinks of a reply. “Yeah. I remember a few times we’d come up here as a group to look out over the city and tell each other our crazy dreams as students.” Squeezing her arm with his hand through his mitten to reassure her, he continues, “And now all of us have become so rather boring. I also forgot how cold this view is; shall we go?”

She nods to him, “Yeah, it is beautiful, but if we don’t start moving, we’ll feel colder.” He gestures for her to take the lead and he follows her back down the hiking trail. They discuss what to do tomorrow more specifically. Going to the art museum, and then shopping. Wilson also makes it clear that they must swing by Schwartz’s deli and St. Viateur Bagel on the 3rd before heading to the airport to return to Princeton.

Plans settled, he sighs in happiness at the warmth of the subway station and they lazily sit for the few stops back to their hotel. Feeling a little peckish, the two of them dash into the closest dep to the hotel. The convenience store is full of unhealthy snacks as well as all sorts of other items and of course beer, wine and liquor, things neither of them really needs. They settle on the couch and nibble on all dressed chips as she had a strict policy on no ketchup chips stating that they are a waste of a potato chip flavor.

Wilson still feels a little cold after their excursion, and he’s got his own idea on how to warm up. He lays lengthwise on the couch and she follows him lying in front of him as they watch a random made for Canadian TV movie. The movie is not quite terrible and almost amusing in the awkwardness of it. They settle into color commentary about it and he uses this to his advantage as his left hand begins to gently run along her side. He feels the soft fabric of her sweater and finally slips a finger or two underneath to her skin. She feels warm and she fidgets a little in response to his fingers but otherwise ignores it.

Sighing lightly, he continues to run his fingers along her skin under the sweater, slowly building intent. After a few minutes she adjusts her position, pushing back into him slightly and making friction between them in all the right places. Her left-hand slides back along his side and grasps onto his hip as she pushes herself back into him a little more humming. Wilson boldly slides his hand up to her breast and caresses it over the bra but under the shirt as she moans softly. He’s not letting her nap this afternoon. All of his movements are tender and when he is tired of teasing her, he picks her up carrying her into the bed, since the couch wouldn’t be comfortable enough in the long run.

As his fingers tease her, leans down to kiss her neck and she whispers in his ear. “You’re incorrigible.”

He nibbles at her right ear, “I know.” She sighs and her hands land on his hips pulling him closer to her below the waist.

She laughs as he seems surprised at her forwardness, “Last night you took your sweet time, and it was lovely. But right now, I could use a little more impatience.” Her legs wrap around his and she pulls him down to a deep kiss, her tongue running along his top teeth. As he pulls back, he looks at her, a mischievous grin across her face.

“Got it.” And he dives back down after pulling off his sweater and t-shirt in one go before undressing her. 

A short time later, she’s on top of him, some of the blankets over them to keep them warm. She yawns loudly before speaking, “Maybe we should call it an early night?” her suggestion is a good one as he yawns soon after. 

“Yeah, I’m not that hungry and the cold really took it out of me.” He yawns again and slowly gets up to change into his pajamas and get ready for bed. Just before nine, they are under the covers facing each other. They decide to get up relatively early so they can get breakfast, head to the art museum first before going shopping, something that she’ll be in charge of since she has a plan. Their conversation begins to drop off as they both get comfortable and settle into sleep. Wilson feels warm and safe as she lays next to him and he thinks about how content he is.

* * *

Eva finds herself flipping through a patient’s chart on New Year’s Day trying to determine what the best course of action is. She’s between two options and pops in to chat with Smith, also on call and he quickly realizes her conundrum agreeing that both of her options are possible. Walking down to the café to get a coffee, she can’t shake the feeling that there is a better of the two options, but it is one of those obscure facts that you need to know exactly where to look it up. Using the stirrer, she mixes almond milk into her coffee when she remembers. The best procedure is in listed in an oncology guide that updates every few years, and she just needs to look it up, but her reference text is back in Manhattan. 

She swings by Smith’s office to see if he has a copy, he shakes his head from behind his messy desk stating he refers to the British version while gesturing to a messy stack of books that lean quite precariously. “I bet Wilson has it though, we can get the key to his office from the main desk.” Eva curtly thanks Smith for his suggestion and she heads down to the main desk to get access to Wilson’s office to look up the most recent version of oncology procedures and protocols by some now dead white guy who wrote the first edition.

A staff member unlocks Wilson’s office and just asks that she shut the door and check that it locks when she’s done. She quickly spots the entire series of the text going back to when she and Wilson were at UPenn together. The books are just about eye level on his shelf and wedged tightly together. Wilson needs to let go of some of the earlier editions, they are out of date and really unnecessary she thinks. The volume she needs is at the very end and she has to pull on it with back and forth motions to loosen it up. It suddenly pops out and she catches it with both hands before it falls to far, and something flies out from behind it and hits the floor behind her.

As the object hits the floor, a metallic ping rings out and something rolls under his desk. Swearing under her breath, she turns to see the box partly open and the metallic thing not visible. Sighing, she places the book on his desk and kneels down to pick up the box. Immediately she recognizes the iconic style of the bright blue box; it is a small Tiffany’s box and the lid popped open on the fall. Eva immediately thinks that this must be for his girlfriend. He’d be the type of guy to hide a purchase like this at work to make sure she doesn’t find it by accident. She’s never met any of his ex-wives, other than his first ex, Sam in passing at conferences or meetings but she never got the vibe that Sam would be a Tiffany’s kind of person.

 _He certainly moves quickly_ she thinks as she opens the box so that she can put the item that fell out back in it.

To her surprise, there are two rings already in the box. Furrowing her brow in confusion, she bends down to look under the desk where another ring rests next to his swivel chair. 

Eva gets up and walks over to pick up the last ring. This ring is a simple gold band and based on the size not a woman’s either. She holds it between her fingers and inspects it. The band is a little scuffed and could use a good polishing. Putting it back into the box, she can’t help but examine the other two. The second one she pulls out is silver and has a pattern of leaves that weave between two parallel borders. The design is much more complicated, and the etching of the design has more sparkle. This ring is over the top compared to the first simple one. 

The last ring is a gold band that still appears simple on the outside but has some writing in Hebrew on the inside of the band. The engraving implies it was more expensive, and it is much cleaner, hell, it is in pristine condition. All three rings are the exact same size and based on the diameter, they would best fit a man.

Eva shuts the box and puts it off to the side of Wilson’s desk. She’s just stumbled on his wedding rings, shoved in the corner of a bookshelf out of sight. Why does he keep them here in his office? The first one looked cheap, which would make sense since Sam divorced him at the end of medical school but before specialization. The other two were clearly expensive and the design and style must reflect his other two wives. One who aesthetically liked pretty or fancy things and another wanted a religious element. Why doesn’t he sell them if he wants them out of the way? Sure, he’s a sentimental guy, but is he **_that_** sentimental?

Smith then pops his head into the office suddenly to ask her if she found the reference text she was looking for. She picks up the book showing it to him and as quickly as he appeared, he’s off. Returning her focus to the text, Eva flips to the index and quickly is able to find the answer she was looking for.

“Thanks James.” She speaks to his office as she wedges the book back into its spot. Picking up the trademark blue box, she reaches up and wedges it back in the shelf out of sight.

With the answer she came looking for, she exits his off and shuts the door behind her, listening for the click of the lock before verifying that it is locked.

She swings by Smith’s office and explains the best protocol for the patient, and he nods in agreement. Being the acting senior, Smith is able to sign off on the modified treatment plan for her and she feels confident in her decision. The rest of the day is easy and tomorrow she’ll have Clinic duty in the morning, something she hasn’t done in years. 

When done for the day, Eva drives to her friend Jennifer’s place; she’s staying with her friend in a spare guest room for her stint at PPTH. The smell of sauerkraut greets her as she opens the door Jennifer’s small but fashionable mid-century house. “Hey Jen, I’m back.” She takes off her coat in the small entryway and Jennifer pokes her head into the hallway.

“Oh, hello Eva. I’m just finishing up some pork and sauerkraut for the New Year. Perfect timing.” Jen seems excited to have her around as a guest and they’ve been pretending like it is a high school sleepover but with wine and pedicures.

Eva heads into the guest room to change into warm socks, flannel lounge pants and a SUNY Stonybrook sweatshirt from undergrad looking rough around the edges. She lets her hair down into a loose low ponytail, strands falling out and helps her friend in the kitchen. They open a bottle of Merlot, filling their wine glasses as close to the brim as possible before heading into her living room to watch trashy TV while eating a casual supper. 

The two of them laugh at some horrible ‘Housewives of X city’ and Eva finds herself enjoying the company of a good friend much more than the revolving cast of men who have floated in and out of her life in Manhattan. It seems like she is closer to figuring what she was missing but the thought drifts away as she drinks more wine. Exhaustion begins to hit her, and she heads to bed, but not before drinking two glasses of water and a little low-calorie Gatorade. She’s got to work tomorrow at nine and she picks out her suit, dress shirt and pumps before settling into the smaller double sized bed. She has to go to the gym in the condo building tomorrow morning, shower and then head to PPTH. As she goes over her schedule for the next day, she repeats it almost like counting sheep until she passes out.

* * *

The sound of the alarm wakes you up as you reorient yourself in the fancy hotel room. Wilson rolls over to turn it off before he rolls back to spoon with you. He doesn’t speak, he just hums as he snuggles up into your back. You feel well rested after going to be early last night; yesterday was interesting – you woke up super early and not wanting to bother Wilson, you got up alone and just watched the sunrise as you looked out the hotel window at the empty city. It reminded you of the sense of loss and disappointment you felt several years ago, and it kept popping up throughout the day.

Wilson starts to nuzzle your neck, but you had agreed to get up at a reasonable hour today! You stretch dramatically, raising your arms out from the covers and sighing loudly as you sit up. Looking at Wilson, you nudge him with your leg, “Come on, we agreed to get up early today.”

Wilson makes the most pathetic puppy dog eyes as he whines, “Well, maybe not that early.” His hair messy and his long sleeve shirt hangs off to one side. You smirk at him before patting his bum under the covers as you slide out of the bed and into the bathroom to get dressed. 

“You don’t fight fair!” Wilson tells you this as he enters the bathroom to use the toilet and shower as you wash your face at the giant vanity.

Quirking up an eyebrow you turn to him as he’s undressing to enter the shower stall, “Who said this is a fair fight.”

He ruffles his hair, “Good point.” He reaches into the shower to turn it on for a moment before stepping in, playfully he speaks, “Just keep in mind you owe me later today.” And with that he’s shut the shower door behind him leaving you no one to retort back to. He’s definitely a match when it comes to witty remarks and you smile to yourself.

Opting for something warm and comfortable, you wear the plaid skirt with you winter tights and the cream-colored sweater. You wear basic city winter boots, black almost knee high and waterproof. Wilson is sporting a pair of his ill-fitting jeans, and a t-shirt under his McGill sweatshirt. Not bad, but it reminds you that he really doesn’t do casual, but perhaps he doesn’t know how to do casual dress? Which is part of today’s ‘evil plan’. It isn’t really evil, just trying to take him shopping without him realizing it.

Looking to be efficient, you have breakfast again at the hotel and they have maple beans again! Fortune has smiled down upon you. With sufficient calories in your system, Wilson is willing to walk to the Metro to take it to the art museum. The two of you spend about two hours looking at the artwork and he makes it clear to your that he’ll be following through on that statement from earlier sticking close and touching you frequently.

The day has become overcast and snowflakes start to come down quickly. You take the Metro back to Peel station and use the guise that you want to go shopping at Les Cours Mont-Royal since it is a great mall that has lots of designer and independent designer shops. It is also connected to a Simons department store so if it fails that is the next option. Wilson just smiles as he follows you, unaware of your plans.

You reach the Three Monkeys indie boutique and as the staff greet you, Wilson innocently nods along behind you as you establish you are an Anglophone, switching to service in English. The clerk asks you what you are looking for today and you reply to him. “Oh, my boyfriend here is interested in a new pair of jeans; I bought a pair of Naked and Famous here years ago and I was impressed with the quality.”

The clerk smiles and nods, “I see. Sir what are you looking for specifically?” and Wilson looks confused as he points to himself, “I – ah – what?” 

You smile as you nudge him towards the store clerk, “You need a new pair of jeans.” As he turns to you looking betrayed, you whisper in his ear, “I wore the lingerie for you. Please at least look at jeans that will make you look sexier.” And you tap him on the lower back as he looks back at you in realization.

Not wanting to be overbearing, you excuse yourself to look at other items while Wilson is with the clerk selecting various pairs of jeans to try on based on his figure. Leisurely you flip through the racks hoping to score a late boxing day sale, though you might be pushing your luck this late.

Wilson’s voice catches your attention, he’s got a handful of jeans in his hands while the store clerk hangs back slightly amused. Wilson looks a bit embarrassed, he speaks hesitantly, “Do you mind looking at each pair as I try them on?” It is clear he’s outside of his usual clothing zone. Nodding, you reassure him you’ll help him out and it is all adorable in a way you never would have predicted.

The store clerk quietly addresses you while he changes, “I’m a bit confused, he seems to be a okay dressed guy, why’s you sneak him here?”

Leaning towards the clerk you whisper back, “Oh, he’s quite fashionable when it comes to professional dress. But his jeans. They are so bad.”

Whispering back the clerk replies, “Oh, he isn’t wearing those jeans ironically? Then it is an issue.” You nod just as Wilson emerges wearing a pair of much more fitted jeans in dark blue. He’s ruffling his hair as he looks at you from under his brows unsure of what to say.

They are much tighter with a slimmer cut but look a little stiff on him as he hesitantly shows them off. Not bad, but perhaps a bit better for someone younger. Wilson fidgets as the three of you discuss them and his major issue that they are too tight and feel stiff. It is a fair point, and he returns to try on another pair.

His body language is less awkward with the next pair, dark grey straight leg ones. The material looks more comfortable and he seems to find them to be better even commenting that they don’t look as lumpy as his regular jeans. That ‘lumpy’ descriptor seems to indicate that he knows his pants are far too loose for his legs. Wilson is now invested in the search for decent jeans and he heads back to the dressing room.

When he emerges the third time, you find yourself pausing to swallow as the clerk hums in approval. He’s wearing a pair that are straight leg jeans with a semi-slim cut with very soft denim. Wilson seems impressed with how this pair look on him, he excitedly moves back and forth making sure you can see how they flatter his behind and how the fabric doesn’t overwhelm his legs as they taper down. 

“What do you think?” he looks at you’re a mischievous sparkle in his eyes knowing damn well that you are trying to not stare at his ass to obviously.

Clearing your throat, you finally reply with a lame, “They look good. It is a nice fit overall.” Wilson is smirking at you as you quickly retreat telling him that you are going to go look at a few sweaters – over there – as you gesture to what are not sweaters.

The next few minutes you keep your distance as the clerk helps Wilson find the similar cut and style but, in another color, he’s looking for grey or black which makes sense with his preference for suits of those colors. Nothing catches your eye, and you rejoin Wilson at the register as he pays for not one but two pairs of jeans. He wraps his arm around you giving you a squeeze, “You are devious.” As the clerk wraps and packages everything into a bag.

“Here you go sir. Enjoy the rest of your day.” The clerk is mildly amused as both of you thank him and meander to a few more of the stores in the mall. 

There are many sweaters on sale, and you are so very tempted, but you own plenty of sweaters. Wilson seems less perplexed by your sweater conundrum and mentions he’s a little hungry as it is past one. You grab a quick bite to eat in the food court and continue to window shop for the most part, that is until you pass a lingerie store and Wilson’s eyes light up and he wiggles his eyebrows. Nudging you with his shoulders he shrugs saying “Fair is fair.” And he’s confidently walking into the store with no fear while you can feel yourself turning several shades of pink and red.

He leans down to whisper in your ear, “I know this may sound crazy, but I’ve shopped at places like this many times before. I have two pairs of jeans now; I think you could use another set of lingerie.”

You can’t help but laugh to yourself, he figured he’ll use the same logical back towards you which is so – well something he seems far too experienced in. Likely having to do with his best friend House.

“Okay, I see your point. But, ah – I’m not sure if this is something that I can – eh model for you.” You aren’t really comfortable with him looking at you in a semi-public setting. 

Wilson is already looking at the coordinated sets as he motions for you to come closer. “What colors are a hard no for you?” Still in disbelief that this is happening, you scratch your head thinking what items you’d dislike.

“Ah, no pastels, like pink, purple, yellow.” As you reply, he quickly, puts a purple set back and he reaches out for an animal print one, making you cringe, “No animal print either.”

He sighs putting it back as he ruffles his hair and moves to some that look a little more basic and in dark colors like black, brown, red and navy. Feeling awkward, you nod reassuringly as your left hand settles on his lower back. He hands his bag to you to hold as he methodically works his way through the selection. A store clerk greets the two of you and he politely asks her if there are more coordinated sets elsewhere in the store and if they also have darker colors. 

You fidget looking to the floor hoping you can just fade away and you zone out while Wilson chats with her. 

A voice pulls you back to the present, “Miss? Miss?” And you see the store clerk smiling softly at you.

“Ah yeah?” you aren’t sure what is going on. 

She maintains her friendly customer service smile, “I was just talking with your boyfriend. He said you are hesitant about such items. Would you like me to help you out?”

It would be rude to refuse her assistance, even if it is her job to make a sale. Tentatively you nod and she smiles brightly. “Excellent, I’m going to work with him for the next few minutes and I’ll return with various options for you to try on.”

Not sure what to do in the meantime, you pretend to look around at the basic and functional underwear in breathable cotton in a wide range of prints and neutral colors. Wilson and the clerk find you and hand his bag back to go to the dressing room. He waves and makes his way to chairs that are only occupied by men of various ages looking bored or anxious or even excited.

The clerk hands you a set a through the changing curtain and chats with you as you undress to try on the items. She asks about what you normally wear, what type of clothing you feel is fashionable and other questions like these. The first set is a dark red lacy bra and bikini that don’t really cover all that much of you, making you feel oddly more exposed, something you tell the clerk. 

She listens to your response and then selects a few others to pass to you that might work better. These sets have more conservative underwear which feel more natural to you even if a few of them have lacy accent parts. The matching bras for these are again more conservative, as the back may be lacy or sheer, but the front has smooth coverage and feels supportive. 

She also has you try another camisole that is opaque for the top and leads down to a sheer bottom that is quite snug. It stops just above your hips and doesn’t leave a large gap of exposed skin, making you feel even more comfortable with this one.

You inform her that you really like this one but aren’t digging the burnt orange brick red color combination. She laughs lightly that she expected you to like this one and replies she’ll be back in a few minutes with other color options. Before you know it, you are seriously considering the midnight blue or black version and ultimately decide on the midnight blue. The set fits with your taste, it is sleek, simple and very modern looking. It also is tight fitting enough you could wear it under other clothing with no issues. It actually functions like your normal underwear almost. Though you will never admit this to Wilson. . .

Decision made, you change back into your clothes and thank the clerk for her assistance, she actually had a good idea of what you wanted after probing for more information from you. She takes care of you at the register as you turn to see Wilson smirking at you before he gets up to join you.

“Find something you like?” He quirks up an eyebrow playfully and you can tell he’s curious.

Feeling unusually okay with your selection which is sexier than normal but as functional as normal, you nudge your hip into his side. “I did.” Smiling you continue, “You’ll just have to wait until later to find out which one I picked.”

He wraps his arm around you as he laughs, “Oh ho! Building up tension and mystery.” 

You hand over your card after the clerk has wrapped up the mystery items and placed them gently in a small paper bag. The two of you thank her as you head out of the store and continue to window shop but don’t find anything else all that interesting. 

It slowly dawns on you that you really aren’t in need of any items of clothing at this time. When you were single, you’d make sure to shop for clothing when traveling to find a unique item or two. Now that you are with someone else, it doesn’t seem to be as important as it was before. You can’t think of anything that you **_need_** to have at the moment, and it feels liberating.

“So where else to?” Wilson wraps his arm in yours as he smiles. You can’t think of anything for the moment, so you suggest heading back to the hotel. The snow is really coming down and you can’t believe how much you have to dust off of yourself when you enter the hotel lobby after not walking that many blocks.

Riding the elevator up, Wilson clears his throat, “Are we to spend some time before heading out for dinner later this evening?”

You find yourself blushing a little. “That sounds fine with me.” And you step out of the elevator heading to the suite.

Suddenly, Wilson’s phone rings and he fishes it out from a deep buried pocket. “Oh, hello Marie. Yes. That sounds interesting, let me check with her.” Wilson then covers the receiver with his hand, “Marie and a few others are going out to dinner tonight and they want to know if you are interested? It is at seven at a local bistro.”

Taking the issue of finding a place for dinner off the table, you agree that it sounds like a great idea. He quickly wraps up the phone call while pulling out the door key.

You enter the hotel room just before four, plenty of time even if you have to be ready by six. . .

As you take off your boots and coats Wilson makes a proposal; if you are willing to wear the new lingerie, he’ll wear one of the pairs of jeans he just bought and things can progress from there.

You ask him that he’s okay wearing clothing that hasn’t been washed. He laughs and replies he likes to live on the wild side occasionally.

You hesitate since you very much are a wash all items before wearing them kind of person, but it would be nice to see his ass in those jeans again, even if he’s wearing the well-worn McGill sweatshirt with it. To keep things more even, you tell him you will change but put at least your skirt and sweater on over it at first. He seems excited by your suggestion and the two of you split up, he steals the bathroom while you are left to change in the bedroom.

A few minutes later he emerges wearing the dark blue jeans with his sweatshirt. Damn, they look two hundred times better on him and are appropriate for his age. Wilson quickly notices your gaze as he sits on the bed next to you. He whispers in your ear making sure his breath tickles it a little, “What do you think? Are these sexy jeans?”

You look into his eyes as you settle onto his lap your arms wrapping around his neck. “I think you already know the answer to those questions.” Leaning down to kiss him you begin to make out to avoid any sort of bedroom/dirty talk since you are bad at it due to your overly literal interpretation of most things.

Thankfully, Wilson quickly isn’t in the mood for that much chatting either and you make out for the next few minutes until you are able to pull of his sweatshirt. He scoffs that it is no fair and immediately pulls your sweater off to reveal the camisole. 

He gasps slightly as his hands land on your back feeling the difference between the two materials and your exposed upper back. “Interesting.” And the two of you continue to roll around a bit. You manage to get him out of the jeans as amazing as they are, and he unzips your skirt eager to see the matching bottom.

Both of you down to underwear he pauses for a moment to look at you. “I didn’t even pick out that one. The store clerk grabbed a few more options . . . yet this seems to fit you.”

Legs tucked under yourself, you blush a little as you look off to the side before looking at the clothing on you. It feels comfortable and it is very flattering, showing off a little of skin just around the waist . . .

Wilson reaches out to settle you back on his lap, his fingers running along the small strip of visible skin between the camisole and underwear. His eyes look at you full of lust as he licks his lips. “This isn’t something I would have picked but it looks really hot. It is simple, clean lines and no lace.” He smiles softly, “She did a good job, this is so very you.” and he kisses you as he leans back, and you lay on top of him. The two of you continue until both of you are sweaty and satisfied.

There is more than enough time to clean up and change back into regular clothing, meet Marie and JB in the lobby to ride with them to the trendy bistro. The rest of the group are there, and you chat about all sort of random things over a relaxed dinner. By time you finish the snow has stopped and the skies have cleared up revealing a bitter cold night.

It tugs at you at that moment, you want to head back up Mont Royal to look out on the city. Maybe this is the closure you’ve been looking for? Marie asks if you want to do anything else before heading back to the hotel and immediately you make your request.

She’s surprised by it, but she and JB agree to it, noting it has been years since they’ve been up to the viewpoint. You quietly stare out the car window as it weaves up the small road to the top and they park. The bitter cold temperature is a shock to your system and you instinctively grab onto Wilson’s arm for warmth. The four of you walk to the view point the lights of the city sparkling below and the whisps of steam move in that certain way that only happens when it is below minus twenty. You won’t be there long, but you need to do this.

“Its gorgeous.” That is all you say as you stand there, Wilson hugging you from behind. Tears well up in your eyes and you blink a few times hoping to get them out of the way. 

He hugs you tighter, “It really is beautiful.” Only then does he look into your eyes and notice the tears you are holding back. “Are you -”

You nod and squeeze his arms around you through your thick mittens, “I’m okay. I can explain later.” And with that a few tears trickle out and you sniffle letting the emotions win in the moment.

“Tabernac! It is freezing. It is a beautiful view, but it is time to get inside and have a nice drink to warm up.” JB’s voice gets your attention and you and Wilson are apologizing as you head back to the car.

By time you reach the car your nose is running, and you are able to pass of the few errant tears as a reaction to the cold and no one other than Wilson knows the difference. Back at the hotel you agree to join Marie and JB for a quick drink at the bar before heading to bed. You have a late afternoon flight, but Wilson still wants his Montreal smoked meat and bagels before heading to the airport.

While drinking half a pint of beer, Wilson appears calm, but his hand is a constant presence on your body the entire time. Touching you, letting you know he’s ready to listen to whatever it is that upset you.

With his need for meat and bagels, he uses it as an excuse to retire early and you return to the hotel room. Settling on the bed, he sits next to you and holds your hands looking directly into your eyes. “What’s been bothering you? I’ve noticed at times you seem incredibly sad while we’ve been here.”

You squeeze his hands as you sniffle. Wilson is unlike any other man you’ve dated, he sees through your calm exterior and catches when your calm facade slips; your calm exterior that you always show to the public and even your significant other in private.

Reaching for a tissue or two you begin from your days as a postdoc. You were working in Toronto and applying for and interviewing for various positions. And in the incredibly tight job market, you got the interview you had been dying for; one in Montreal. You were so excited; you had a shot at a position in Montreal and you could almost taste it. After living in Toronto, you were ready to move to a cheaper city with all of the same perks; excellent food, live music and clothing.

You the pause as your emotions bubble up. You didn’t get the job offer. Instead, they offered the position to another person you knew, and you were **_devastated_**. You were so close to getting an incredible position where you could see yourself. Without the offer in Montreal, you were forced to accept the other offer you had, the position that you had just left to move to Princeton and into industry.

You wring your hands in your lap as you can’t face Wilson. It was the most disappointing thing that has happened to you in your life and it put you on a path to being miserable for the next few years before you finally gave up on your current career path and transitioned to industry. 

Tears start to roll down your cheeks and you can’t stop them anymore; you realize that you never addressed the feeling of loss at the job offer you didn’t get and how you weren’t able to move to Montreal. You just pushed that feeling deep down and moved on because it was what you were supposed to do.

Wilson then envelops you a hug as he makes soft shushing noises as you cry. He gently speaks telling you that he’s so sorry and it is okay to hurt when you are disappointed. He holds you until you have calmed down, puffy eyes, stuffy nose in all.

“Feeling a bit better?” He smiles lovingly at you before he kisses the top of your head. He pulls back to you at you with a playful smile, “I think we should take advantage of the fancy bathtub one last time.”

It sounds like a good idea and you slide into the hot bath as Wilson pampers you. He doesn’t judge your messy looking face and instead takes care of the rest of you as you melt into the bliss of having another person care for you. After the bath you collapse into the bed exhausted and Wilson holds you until you fall asleep. You realize that this is what it means to be loved.

On the last day of your trip, you feel different. Those feelings of loss and disappointment are gone, and you can finally enjoy everything all the time. It wasn’t that you didn’t enjoy things before then, but you are unincumbered by feelings that were dragging you down without you even noticing them. Wilson makes sure to purchase two dozen bagels from St. Viateur. He explains the first dozen are for him and the rest will go to colleagues at Princeton-Plainsboro. The last stop is at Schwartz’s deli for some smoked meat and with that complete, you find yourself sitting in the back of a taxi to the airport.

The two of you make your way through the various annoyances of the airport, pre-clear US customs and then nap a little at the gate waiting to board your flight back to Newark. It is a bit warmer when you touch down in the early evening, pick up your bags and return to Wilson’s Volvo waiting patiently in long term parking. You help him clean off a dusting of snow and ice and right before nine at night, you are opening the door to your apartment Keith meowing excitedly at the sound of your voice.

Your furry companion meows excitedly, telling you all about his time with Brenda and her teenage daughter, how boring it was and how cold it is to sleep in a bed alone. Wilson mumbles it is too much effort to return to his place tonight and he’ll just spend his last day off tomorrow dealing with stuff back in his condo.

And with that your trip to Montreal with Wilson has come to an end. You feel safe and secure in your own bed, Keith at your feet and Wilson next to you. Maybe there is some real meaning to this ‘New Year’?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chase isn't a main character in my fic, but he was the most interesting of the fellows to me since he goes through the most changes over the course of the show. Many many moons ago, I read some of Thomas Merton's writings and I may have even attended a Catholic retreat (by choice). Even though I was proactive in my faith, it still didn't stop me from eventually becoming agnostic. Maybe I find his character a little more interesting because he's kept his own version of religion that works for him?
> 
> I have only hiked Mont Royal in the late spring, and the view is beautiful as you look out over the downtown core and see the river beyond. I would love to visit it in the winter, I'm sure it looks great.
> 
> Montreal is an amazing city for clothes shopping; causal, professional, designer. You name it, they likely have it. As far as I know, Three Monkeys is still open and a great place for high quality denim. I don't think someone like Wilson would be able to fit in actual Naked & Famous, nor would it be his style, but he would have worn some more flattering jeans in the show. His suits fit, why couldn't his casual jeans? [retroactively gives stink eye to wardrobe person]
> 
> I miss maple beans. I used to live on no name maple beans, eggs and toast for breakfast on the weekend.
> 
> Ketchup chips are truly a waste of a chip flavor.


	32. back to work in january

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The winter break and holidays are now over. Wilson learns more about his girlfriend's preferences and ponders how to have constructive conversations about banal but very important relationship issues.
> 
> House begins to consider how to keep his own team going and how to best adjust to changes to his personnel.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lots of thoughts and conversations; Wilson and his girlfriend. House and Thirteen. Wilson and House. etc.

Wilson groans as he stretches in his girlfriend’s bed sometime after Keith was fed. He rolls over to spoon with her to find an empty spot. Squinting at the clock he sees it is almost nine! Wow, he definitely slept in later than he expected. He rolls out of the bed to find her in the living room watching TV at a low volume.

Ruffling his hair, he bends over the couch to kiss her on the cheek. “Morning. When did you get up? I didn’t notice at all.”

She looks back at him, “Just before eight. You were out cold so I figured it would be best to let you sleep in. You did drive back last night and traveling always makes me tired.”

He hums in reply as he enters the bathroom. A load of laundry is tumbling away, she works fast on her return. Then again, if he had woken up at his place, he’d also start his laundry. With her small washer running he realizes he’ll have to wait until it is on a dry cycle before showering as the display shows 35 minutes remaining.

Quietly and still sleepy (he actually is tired) he shuffles into the kitchen to find now cold coffee. He pours a cup into a mug, pops it in the microwave while he roots around for some cereal. Keith strolls into the kitchen to watch him and mews as he removes the reheated coffee. Coffee like this never tastes great, but he’ll wait to make another cup after finishing this one, it is a waste of the cup that remained in the French Press.

Walking to the living room and couch he sits down next to her to have his breakfast. As he wakes up, they discuss their last few days of winter break. Both of them return to full time work on Monday the 7th, and he also has one of the last chemotherapy drug reviewer sessions that day. As he reflects on it, it makes him a little sad, it allowed him to be closer to her on some workdays.

Needing more caffeine, he puts on the kettle for another pot of coffee which she is in favor of. They settle into a comfortable position as the TV drowns on in the background and he starts to feel sleepy despite the two cups of coffee. Something about getting under the afghan with her relaxes him much more than any other person he’s dated. Just as he’s about to fall asleep, she’s jolted by the sound of the end of cycle jingle on the washing machine. She extracts herself from him and goes to the bathroom to pull out items for air drying and turns on the dry cycle. 

Wilson is more awake from the movement and after she puts their dirty mugs away in the kitchen, he walks up behind her to hug her as she tidies up. Holding her, he whispers in her ear, “Stay at my place tonight.” And his hands pull her closer to him as he kisses her ear, and she blushes. She sighs back into him as her hands hold onto his forearms. 

Just as he thinks she’ll agree to it, she instead hesitates, “I dunno, I don’t really want to leave Keith alone for another night so soon. . . .” and almost on cue, Keith mews at them from the floor. Wilson looks into those eyes and his resolve weakens. He can’t say no to that feline expression. Dammit. 

Sighing internally, he pulls her closer as he nibbles on her neck, “Okay, I’ll go back alone.” Humming he slides his hands to the front of her hips. “But right now, we are taking a shower. Together.”

She makes a noise in surprise as he scoops her up and carries her to the small bathroom. “We won’t fit!” her look of disbelief makes him smile.

“Oh, don’t you worry, it will be fine.” He kisses her playfully before reaching in to turn on the shower and he makes quick work of getting both of them out of their pajamas. The shower is a tight fit, but he’s more than skilled enough to deliver an excellent morning surprise and she seems to be in a daze as they towel off. 

As he finishes styling his hair, his phone rings. It is either work or House. No one else would call him save for his girlfriend and she’s at most twenty feet away from him at the moment. He doesn’t rush to answer since both would either leave a message (work) or be persistent (House). His hair perfectly styled and casually dressed; he picks up the phone to see the missed call. It indeed was House, and he dials him back.

House immediately answers sounding cranky, “Wilson! Where are you? You were supposed to be back last night. I’m at your place and you aren’t here.”

Wilson immediately reaches to massage his nose and forehead, “Hey. I did get back last night but I was exhausted and crashed at my girlfriend’s place. You know, the person I went to Montreal with?”

An audible scoff is heard before House continues, “I’m well aware of where you were and who you were with. Did you forget the photocopy of all of your travel plans and the email that you sent me? I’m just saying that tonight is trashy TV and take out at your place!”

Confused slightly, Wilson wants to know why House is at his place, glancing at his watch, before noon. “Okay, okay. I’ve got to do laundry and unpack from my break. I’ll be there in a bit.”

House’s insistence on his presence can only mean that there is something that House really wants to talk about, but being the stubborn introvert that he is, he’ll never come out and say it. He’ll make Wilson listen to a convoluted story until he gets to whatever the important thing is.

He packs up his stuff and tells his girlfriend he’ll be back at his place with House. She smiles and tells him it isn’t a problem. She’s okay with him staying at his place overnight and she wants to chat with her best friend, who she hasn’t had time to talk to.

Wilson tosses his luggage full of dirty clothing into his car and drives to his condo where House’s car is parked in the guest spot. 

As he opens the door, he yells to House, “Honey, I’m home. You prepping supper?” House yells back that, there are some leftovers in the fridge, and he can show him how to operate this novel appliance known as a microwave. House’s coat is tossed on the table and his tennis shoes are sloppily off to the side of the doormat and he wheels his suitcase into the kitchen to directly load the washer.

“Hey, what’s up?” Wilson smiles as he nods to greet House sitting on his couch flipping through the vast selection of channels.

“Aw, not much. I got back on New Year’s Day and took the shuttle service back to Princeton. How was Montreal? Did you relive your boring and conservative youth?” House’s eyes are twinkling with delight as he’s hoping for a rise out of Wilson.

Opening the suitcase, he begins to sort this dirty clothing tossing all of the darks into the open washer. “It was fucking freezing, but we got to visit a few museums, eat some delicious food, and walked around outside more than I was expecting.”

House slowly makes his way to the bar stools at his kitchen island to sit and talk to Wilson as he deals with his laundry. “I can’t visualize you trekking around in the winter. I mean you had to have done it before when you lived there, but I can only see Wilson here in Jersey, with his Volvo and heated seats.”

Wilson rolls his eyes playfully as he puts in the detergent and fabric softener. He and House bicker back and forth about how a nice car is good to have in the winter as opposed to House’s inefficient and freezing cold Plymouth. Automatically, he finds himself putting on the coffee maker to make a pot for the two of them and they settle into low key chit chat and he digs around for some pretzels to snack on.

They flop down on his couch and start off by watching a sappy made for TV movie that is so poorly acted they wonder if it is artistically trolling the viewers. Wilson gets up to move his wash along and reads the instructions on his new fancy jeans to make sure he doesn’t do anything stupid with them. They apparently are cold wash and lay flat to dry, he looks at his already full drying rack of sweaters and figures they’ll have to wait a day or two before washing.

While watching the second movie, which they are now openly mocking, House suddenly tells him ‘thanks.’ Wilson quirks up an eyebrow puzzled what this thank you is in reference to. House fidgets as little before he clarifies it was the document he sent via express post. The two men then gently trade information of their trips wedged between color commentary of the movie, a very bad detective movie that has House yelling at the young sleuth’s lack of logical reasoning. House talks about visiting with his Mom, cooking or baking and feeling awkward but okay. Wilson describes the museums in detail, meeting up with old friends from university and how his girlfriend is exceptionally cold tolerant.

Their stomachs begin to grumble, and they call to Bombay for some take out – the usual of course for House, while Wilson is much more likely to mix things up. House nips out to pick up a six pack of craft beer, since Wilson is oddly lacking in beer around his place. He wonders how frequently Wilson has been sleeping at his condo – sure, his pantry is well stocked, and his clothing is perfectly organized, and he still has the same cleaning lady from when he and Julie divorced, so, the place is spotless, but the condo has a lingering air of abandonment.

Wilson grabs the takeout and returns to unpack things before House has returned with the beer and a small duffle bag. House places the beer on the kitchen counter and heads to spare bedroom to change into comfy lounge pants and fuzzy socks. “It is a boy’s night in. You need to change into your jammies too Jimmy.” House has that shit eating grin and Wilson can’t help but laugh. “We are doing pedicures after din~ner.” The sing-song element of House’s voice has Wilson sighing affectionately.

Walking down to his bedroom Wilson waves his right hand in the air, “Fine, fine. Let me find my scuzziest sweats.” He returns to find House scooping a huge pile of rice and naan down and he slaps a spoonful of tikka masala chicken down into the middle. His required samosa with twice the amount of spicy mint chutney waits for his return on the counter. 

Unable to decide what he exactly wanted, Wilson got a vegetarian thali giving him the sampling of aloo gobi, dahl, spinach paneer, raita, smaller samosas and some rice and naan.

The sink back into the couch, their full plates on the coffee table next to their beers. “What’s up for our sleepover movie?” Wilson wiggles his eyebrows at House. 

Scratching his chin in thought, House pauses as he pretends to ponder things, “Well since this is a manly sleepover, we need a more manly movie.” Wilson nods along, he might as well do his best to encourage House’s logic.

“Therefore, we are going to watch, ‘High Fidelity’. I know it isn’t as good as the book, which is set in London and not Chicago, but it captures the essence of a male ‘dating’ movie.” House shoves a piece of naan almost dripping with curry onto the couch into his mouth. After a hum of approval, he then continues, “Though the soundtrack to the movie is vastly superior to that of the novel.” And he licks his fingers clean after chewing a few times.

Wilson has to admit that he has no idea about the book or the movie, so he’ll just have to watch it and see. The two men settle in and Wilson begins to notice that the movie’s protagonist, seems to have some similar personality traits to both House – and his girlfriend. Though Rob is a lot better at getting laid than either of them.

The movie is an interesting watch either way and he and House then watch ‘Gross Point Blank’ only because it stars John Cusack, and when they finally turn off the TV, they are half asleep and a little buzzed. House is a little stiff and instead of whining all the way to the spare room, Wilson helps him to the bathroom. He waits to make sure House can get into the bedroom in one piece and House with his eyes barely open quietly speaks to Wilson, “Thanks. Night Wilson. I think I’m gonna ask Sal out next weekend.” With that, he shuts the door in Wilson’s surprised face as he ruffles his hair. Sighing Wilson collapses into his own bed feeling emotionally satiated from House’s catch-up time.

* * *

Early Saturday morning, House’s yoga alarm goes off on his phone. He swears as he swipes at it, feeling a little bit rough around the edges. But he’s got spare yoga clothing here at Wilson’s and he even put the mat in the car last night to make sure he wouldn’t skip out of it.

Groaning, he extracts himself from the warm bed, his leg feeling a little stiff, and if it makes any sense, excited for the yoga class. House groans again as his leg betrays his logical mind. In the quiet morning, he dresses and uses the bathroom before drinking a glass of water, leaving the dirty cup for Wilson to deal with later. On a single post-it note he leaves his best friend a message. 

**Off to silly yoga. Laters.**

Even though he’s feeling a little off, he’s glad that neither of them overdid things last night. House is still in denial that cutting back on alcohol has improved how he feels most mornings, and he’ll have to discuss this with Nolan at his session this week.

Hell, he’s back to a regular work week with his full team and anxiously waits for his next case to roll through the doors of Princeton-Plainsboro Teaching Hospital. At least Wilson is almost done with that silly clinical reviewer thing – he’s been missing the ability to pester him whenever he wants to. 

Or whenever he can find him to pester him. 

As long as Wilson isn’t avoiding him at PPTH on purpose.

Summer leads the yoga class through some deep poses which House melts into. He’s shocked when the class ends as he may have been getting closer to a state of bliss . . . but that isn’t possible without the use of some sort of chemical substance. Isn’t it? He scratches his stubble in thought as he lays on the mat.

* * *

You enjoyed your Wilson free evening on Friday. As lovely as the trip was, you were starting to feel like you were revealing more about yourself than you felt comfortable. Having some alone time will help you sort things out. Plus, you were able to set up at time to chat with your best friend. Due to the busy holiday period, neither of you have had the time to catch up. And holy shit, you have a lot to catch up on with him.

Sleeping in on Saturday gave you a chance to wrap up any laundry that remained and grocery shopping. You quickly lose track of time and Keith keeps a close eye on you since you were away for more days than he felt necessary.

In the afternoon your phone rings, it is Wilson. He called to let you know that he has been called into PPTH to help out in his department. He apologizes profusely as he explains that he expects a late evening and he’s still not done with laundry at his place from sleeping in. Wilson’s long-winded explanation then ends with a I’m so sorry, but I think I’ll have to sleep over at my place tonight, I’ll be able to make it to your place on Sunday.

You are actually relieved that he’s going to be busy, you won’t be able to talk to your best friend until after eight and you really don’t want Wilson to overhear a discussion, well about him. Even though you compromised with him during the trip, you aren’t sure if you made the ‘right’ decision and you want to discuss things with you best friend who has known you for a very long time by this point.

Since you can’t actually say any of these things to Wilson, you tell him it is totally okay, and he should do what is best for his schedule. An outdoor ice rink has opened in town and you suggest going skating and then heading back to your place for dinner and a low-key night in. Wilson excitedly agrees to your suggestion.

Just before nine, you are able to connect with your best friend via Skype. The two of you ease into your conversation, starting small with all the required and expected pleasantries. He’s quite surprised at your trip to Montreal and gives you the time and space to slowly unpack and analyze your trip.

What really bothers you is the whole assumption about the lingerie situation. Certainly, you want to be a supportive girlfriend, but the idea without discussion was not cool. As your friend listens, he identifies two separate issues; Wilson’s ask and his assumption. He thinks your decision to accept his ask was a good one. His request wasn’t anything crazy, it is actually quite easy as far as such things. Now, the assumption is another issue, he’s clearly used to guessing/anticipating what women have liked or found acceptable or never thought deeply about it. 

You bring up the fact that you did get to pick out some items with the assistance of a store clerk and that felt better. Going on that idea, your best friend’s suggestion is that if this is to be a thing you want to do in the future, make it clear to Wilson that you’ll buy some more, but you get to pick it out on your own. He has a good point; it would make the situation something that you have more control over and could have some ownership; in a sense you’d be sharing or compromising on the issue.

After clearing that hurdle, the conversation returns to more normal topics to discuss. Yawning, you excuse yourself as you decide to sign off. Not long after, you are in bed, with Keith snuggled up to you and you drift off to sleep feeling better about things which had left you confused about. You didn’t get to the topic of what you thought might have been ‘oversharing’ but one issue at a time.

Sunday has that nervous anticipation of a return to the normal workweek. Bundling up, you meet Wilson at the outdoor ice rink and the two of you skate around with a half empty area. Looks like other people are staying warm in their houses or rushing about errands they had procrastinated on. Even though it has only been two days, Wilson is constantly touching you and keeping himself close by; it is clear that he’ll be wanting to have sex for sure. You calculate the best time to go to bed to allow for what will happen as well as getting up on time for work tomorrow.

Once exhausted and feeling colder than warmer, the two of you head back to your place to make supper. While cooking you throw out the idea of staying over at his place next weekend and also meal prepping with House. Would that work with his schedule? Plus, you enjoyed pitching into House’s insanely chaotic yet organized meal prep assembly line.

Wilson smiles in delight as he wraps around you kissing you on the cheek. He’s completely in favor of this idea. He nuzzles your neck as you try to sauté some veggies and not wanting to burn the apartment down, you escort him out of the kitchen telling him to unpack his clothing or do whatever he does to his clothing. Keith’s attention is divided, he can stay in the kitchen hoping for extra snacks or he can follow Wilson, whom he likes to watch when he does random things . . . ultimately, he mews and follows Wilson.

After supper, you lay on the couch next to Wilson, whose hands are already very active. Quickly he dives under the blanket in an attempt to mix things up heading towards your waist. Perhaps he thinks it won’t be as weird if he’s under the blanket and out of the visual range of Keith?

Later you are relieved to see that you can still get to bed at a reasonable hour and Wilson drifts off to sleep quickly next to you and Keith. 

* * *

Monday morning, Wilson wakes up early feeling refreshed. He rolls over to look at his girlfriend still asleep and glances at Keith also still curled up in a cat circle. God, he thinks to himself, he sleeps so much better when there is someone else in the bed with him. Something about the comfort of knowing someone else is there. Then again, he’s jumped from bed to bed more frequently or avoided sharing a bed in the past. But this time, he is more interested in keeping this going – without those issues.

Stealthily, he turns off his alarm before he watches as his girlfriend moves in her sleep. He takes this chance to press into her warm body. Spooning her, he sighs and begins to nuzzle and caress her. He’s ready to go for morning sex and patiently he works his magic on her as she wakes up to his gentle touch. Feeling confident, he makes sure they both start the day off right. . . well until she jolts up from between his arms as he lay there, with a “Fuck!” and she almost falls off the bed on her way to the bathroom.

Confused, he sits up to Keith judging him harshly and wanting kibble. He then notices it is just after seven, it looks like she forgot to set her alarm. A cry of “Shit shit shit, I’m gonna be late.” is heard throughout the small apartment and he is totally confused what is going on for a moment until it also dawns on him that it is **_indeed_** after seven and he would have normally gotten up and showered by this point!

With that realization he too leaps out of the bed to pop in the bathroom, dammit he won’t be able to shower without making himself late, but with the reviewer meetings this morning and Clinic duty and rounds this afternoon he has to be out the door sooner rather than later. 

A flurry of limbs and movement between the two of them happens as she makes a pot of coffee while also washing her face and dressing quickly into casual clothing. Wilson frowns that he’s unable to wash his hair and he does the bare minimum of washing his face and armpits before throwing on a dark purple sweater over his lavender shirt with a striped tie and grey pants. 

She’s actually out the door first just before eight, but he grabs her sleeve just as she’s halfway through the door. “Hey.” And he leans in to give her a quick kiss on the cheek. “Have a good one.”

Her smile is terse, “I will as long as you don’t make me too late.” And she’s speed walking down the hallway towards her parking spot.

Wilson feels hurt, he wasn’t trying to make her be late; it wasn’t his fault she forgot to reset her own alarm. . . plus now he’s going to have greasy hair that might smell funny. . . but then he thinks about that fact he just has some very satisfying sex and considers it worth it.

“Meow?” He turns to see Keith looking up at him in the open doorway, seated next to his feet. “You said it buddy.” He addresses Keith and he blinks his eyes in approval. Stooping down to pet Keith, he tells him to have a good day and he’ll see him later.

Ruffling his hair, he collects his items and finishes his cup of coffee. He’s anticipating a decent breakfast spread for the reviewer meeting and he finds himself cutting things a little closer than usual but still making it into the conference room a few minutes before nine, balancing a very full plate of healthy options for his breakfast.

All of the review teams are present, and he takes an empty spot near the back. Eva and Matt Jones are closer to the front as they chat about something and he’s only able to nod towards them as the company rep asks everyone to settle into place as they discuss the different team’s findings. During the first break, he’s approached by Jones, “Morning Jim. Unusual for you to squeak in just before the starting time.”

He shrugs his shoulders in reply, “I guess one of the benefits of living closer. You know, being able to head out the door a little later than normal and not have it be an issue.”

Eva joins them with a fresh cup of coffee in her hands. “Morning James. How was your trip?”

He shifts his stance before replying to her, “Oh, you know. Cold, good food and lots of people speaking French.”

Matt Jones then stares intently at him, “You are the person who Eva was covering for and was only in Hawaii for a week and not two?” Looking a little hurt, he turns to Eva, “You were covering in the Oncology Department at Princeton-Plainsboro?”

The calm exterior of her remains the same but her eyes narrow just slightly, “Yes, excellent powers of deduction Matt.” Just as it looks like she’s about to say something else, they are asked to return to their places and continue on with the meeting.

Wilson with is back row seat, is able to watch the body language between Jones and Eva. It seems he’s a little upset that she didn’t give him the full details of why she came back early over the break. He’s genuinely curious, since it is clear that whatever was going on between them may have been more serious from Matt’s side of things . . . However, he’s not able to pay too close attention as he is selected to be one of the members to type up a summary opinion for the final meeting in two weeks. It won’t be that big of a deal, and it will give him a chance to solidify any new relationships he’s made with some of the other oncologists.

Of course, he has to excuse himself from group lunch and make his way back to PPTH for lunch with House and then Clinic hours. He immediately goes to House’s office knocking on the door as he’s greeted with eager eyes.

“Wilson! Excellent; to the cafeteria.” House stands and gestures for Wilson to take the lead.

After getting their usual, the two men settle into a small round table leaving House sulking – their favored booths are all occupied by new medical students ready for the next semester of their studies. His best friend grumbles about that whole ‘teaching hospital’ thing, even though he’d be unemployed if it weren’t for PPTH and Cuddy hiring him when no one else wanted him.

House asks him about the reviewer panel coming to an end and he describes the few details that he can. He finds himself mentioning how it seemed Eva has annoyed her current male fling by working at PPTH. An eyebrow pops up on House’s face, “Ah yes, you mean the very competent but incredibly dull, hot woman with expensive tastes.”

Sighing at House’s rather unkind description of Eva, though accurate, he nods. “Yes, she is looking to mix things up career-wise.” 

House tilts his head to the side in contemplation, “Something is off today with you. I mean, you aren’t interested in this woman, you are being too honest about her.” Humming to himself House stands up from their table his chair squeaking across the floor and walks behind Wilson as he looks at him confused before he leans in and sniffs Wilson’s head making him yelp in surprise at his best friend’s behavior.

“Hey!” Wilson swats at House, “Stop sniffing me for no reason.” In response House is grinning like the self-assured know-it-all he is. 

“Wilson, you didn’t wash your hair this morning. You totally had sex this morning . . . and you were running late because of it.” House laughs in delight as Wilson’s face contorts itself in surprise.

Sputtering half a reply, Wilson tries to say something coherent, “What the hell? I mean I still made it to the review panel on time.” Only as the words have left his lips does he realize he unwittingly confirmed House’s conclusion and he quickly grabs his empty tray now full of dirty dishes to return.

“Well, I got to catch up on some paperwork before Clinic duty and checking in with patients. Later House.” Wilson stares at the floor ahead of him as he rushes off leaving House laughing at the table in delight.

The rest of Wilson’s day goes quickly, and he relaxes as he settles into his car to head to his condo to pick up a few items before arriving at his girlfriend’s place.

He’s smiling to himself as he uses his own key to let himself into the building and as soon as the key enters the lock there is a needy meow on the other side. Opening the door, he notices the apartment is still dark as Keith rubs his legs begging for supper. Glancing at his watch, he notices that it is just before six and his girlfriend isn’t home yet. She didn’t mention anything about working late this morning.

Dropping off his bag, he throws on a pair of warm wool socks, feeds a ‘starving’ Keith and then looks in her fridge. Quickly, he pulls out various ingredients for a stir fry and washes the rice, before putting the pot on the stove to cook while he preps things. Of course, Keith is immediately at his feet wanting a slice of bell pepper or two and he holds out a piece for Keith. He grabs the slice with his teeth and runs off to the living room to eat it over a rug. 

Right as he wraps up the stir fry, the door opens as he hears a loud sigh from his girlfriend. Popping his head out from the small kitchen he greets her with a smile. “Hey, long day at work?”

She hangs her head as she sighs, “Yeah. Things started off fine, but our internal servers crashed right before our quarterly meeting. Since all of our short-term goals and documents were on the server, we had to wait until IT support was able to restore them, and we didn’t even get started until after two. We wrapped about forty minutes ago.”

Wilson turns off the burner and moves the frying pan to an empty coil to cool. Walking up to her, he gives her a big hug, feeling the tension in her back. “I’m sorry to hear that. Well, I’ve made some supper and I’m starving. Ready to eat?” he softly smiles at her.

All of a sudden it registers with her that he had cooked. “Oh. Yeah.” And she turns to look at the steaming hot dishes. Looking away, she clears her throat and steps back, “I’ll set the table then. Least I can do.”

They then sit down at her small table and he asks her if anything else happened at work. She shrugs, replying other than the obvious server issues it was fine. Though she got into work later than she had preferred. He senses a lingering feeling of annoyance in the concept of later than preferred. . . maybe he should address it? Or ignore it? 

Nope, after seeing her still annoyed body language he decides to address it. He pushes some of the rice around on his plate with his fork as he composes himself.

Looking at her from under his brows he starts slowly. “I’m sorry to hear your first day back at work was stressful. But it seems like you may have been stressed out before then. I know you were upset you were running late because your alarm didn’t go off.” He pauses to see her facial expression as she stops eating for a moment. She seems a little puzzled, but he’s got her attention.

“You aren’t annoyed at me for this morning?” His eyebrows are arched up as he looks as innocent as he can and doesn’t go any further.

She puts her fork down as she thinks, “I ah – I mean I was but only after I saw what time it was.” 

Okay, he thinks to himself, she isn’t upset about having sex before work _per se_ but she was upset that since her alarm didn’t go off she didn’t know what time it was . . . he cautiously begins to eat to seem relaxed as he thinks of the appropriate reply.

“Well, you still made it to work on time correct?” He can’t put his finger on it but there is something he’s missing based on her body language.

She fidgets while looking at her plate of mainly eaten food. “I did, but it felt rushed.”

Wilson smiles and sighs, excellent, he thinks, now we are getting somewhere even if this might get a little weird. Having all these years of experience with House makes any other introverted, hyper-rational person a lot easier.

“Hhhmmm. I see. Would you have preferred to just get up?” his question leaves him feeling slightly concerned since he very much likes being able to have sex on weekdays before work.

Unable to look at him for a moment she pushes her fork around on the table, “I, ah.” Her eyes look up to him before she continues, “I don’t have much experience dating someone on weekdays. I really like having my set morning routine and timing for everything.” Ruffling her hair as she thinks, she finally continues, “What I’m trying to say is morning sex, messes up my morning routine.”

Wilson can’t believe she just blurted that out. “It messes up your routine?” He feels a little concerned, “Are you opposed to – to having sex early in the morning?”

Tilting her head in thought, she ponders deeply, “No, I mean, not on the weekends, but sort of on weekdays once the novelty wears off and I have work to do.”

Her reply is given with such honestly, he is almost in shock that she declared she’s only into sex when it doesn’t interfere with her workday. Struggling to grasp this concept, he asks for clarification.

“You mean, if you could, you’d never have sex on weekday mornings?” It sounds bizarre as he hears him say it.

Nodding, she grunts. “Hm. Yeah. It messes up my usual routine.”

Wilson’s brain implodes silently across from her. She wasn’t kidding about lacking relationship experience. Well, long term relationship experience.

“I’m not quite sure how to reply to that.” He honestly isn’t sure but thinks this might move the conversation along if she asks for more information. Or sees his confusion. Looking across the table at her, he watches how she becomes puzzled in slow motion from both a look of listening, to pondering to then confusion. Chewing on the corner of her mouth she makes an odd face before speaking.

“Why would you need to reply to that? I’m just telling you why I don’t prefer situations like this.” 

She’s following up on his statement; internally, Wilson pumps his fist as he might be able to discuss this in more depth. He’ll need to listen to her concerns, but also communicate how relationships are based on compromise.

Settling into a serious discussion, he keeps it cool, “Well, there are few things here; you don’t like having sex in the morning out of the fear it will disrupt your schedule. In contrast, I definitely enjoy early morning sex whenever it happens.” Wilson pauses as he waits.

“Yeah, I’ve gathered that.” Her reply is blunt, but without underlying tension.

Keeping it relaxed, he continues. “So, what I’m saying, is that I’d like to have sex sometimes on weekday mornings.”

She scrunches up her shoulders, “But I don’t want to.”

Realizing this might take more time than just this evening to discuss things, he decides to drop the issue for the time being. Ruffling his hair and looking a little meek, he speaks, “Okay. I understand. I just wanted to let you know that it is something that I like and just keep it in the back of your mind as we continue to sort things out.”

And having said all he could at this point in time, he stands up to clean up, pack away leftovers and wash the dishes.

She soon joins him and asks him what he’s got to do at work tomorrow. Thankfully, they settle into a comfortable conversation and the rest of the evening is low key. She must have been more tired than he realized when she falls asleep on the couch next to him; he’d love to have gotten more physical, but after the conversation that sort of when somewhere, he decides to hang back.

Nudging her awake, he tells her it is time to brush Keith and that she should head to bed soon. Her reply is only partially coherent and by time he joins her in bed she’s out cold.

* * *

Tuesday morning, Thirteen enters House’s office quietly, while the rest of the team kill time waiting for their next patient.

Hovering over him, she clears her throat as she hands over an envelope. “This is for you.” He looks up into her calm eyes and notices how she has a terse expression.

Taking it from her hand, House swivels in his chair towards her standing before him. “This is it isn’t it?”

Nodding, she crosses her hands across her chest, burying her hands into her sides. “It is. Do you want me to tell them or you?”

House leans back and looks at her, “Well, normally I’d tell you to deal with it, but I should talk to Cuddy about if I can hire a replacement.” He then stares at the floor for a moment before turning to look at the rest of the team. Foreman is at the whiteboard writing something out while Taub and Chase give him a hard time laughing at something that Foreman thinks is serious.

His throat feeling a little dry and trying to put his finger on the emotions he may be feeling, he decides to flee with her. He stands up and tosses the letter on his desk to formally review later.

“Let’s go get a coffee, we can figure out what to do away from the peanut gallery.”

Thirteen smiles slightly and relaxes her crossed arms. “Sounds good.” The two of them exit his office as the rest of the Diagnostics team continues to argue about something.

After talking to Thirteen, he decides he’ll talk to Cuddy first about how to get another woman on his team. Best to determine if he will have the resources to hire someone else before he tells the rest of the group that they will get a new team member or not.

Lunch with Wilson is normal. His best friend is wearing his typical striped tie, striped shirt, suit combination and he talks about how his department is working well even with Liu on mat-leave. House tunes out most of the minute details that Wilson is describing and after listening to about ten minutes of this, he changes the topic to poker night tomorrow.

Wilson is excited about tomorrow’s poker night and he lets House know he’s gonna win big this time. House mocks his over confidence, and they return to their offices and the rest of the schedule.

The sound of heels catches House’s attention as Cuddy walks into the conference room where the entire team is playing rare disease hangman on the white board. She’s wearing a dark purple pencil skirt, black blouse and a dark grey cardigan holding a patient file.

“We are getting a transfer from Princeton General. Their team are stumped on the patient.”

House is immediately stoked as he lunges across the table to snatch the file from Taub’s hands as he opens it. “Mine!”

Taub sighs and rolls his eyes as he holds his hands up in defeat. “Whatever. . . boss.”

Pointing his right index finger at Taub, House gloats, “Exactly. I’m the boss.”

Feeling alive, he reads over the file before handing it to the rest of the team and he stands up to the board to start their differential and they wait for the patient to be delivered to PPTH. The team breaks up into teams, Chase and Thirteen and Foreman and Taub as they reserve equipment and collect various samples for tests. 

As the day progresses, Thirteen volunteers to take the evening/overnight shift. The rest of the team is able to head home as usual and poker night is on.

Wilson shows up early to help him set up the table and they pull out various snacks. Something about Wilson is different, but he can’t put his finger on it yet. He’s curious what is off with his best friend and whatever it is, it is subtle since it just tickles at his brain lightly.

The rest of the men arrive, and they begin to play; everyone catches up on their holiday activities. Chase boldly tells the rest of the group about his religious retreat, which everyone is respectful of and the other men even ask Chase what he got out of it. House does his best to try to ignore it, but when it comes to Chase, he can’t help but need to know more about the younger man’s life beyond work.

Wilson gets up to take a piss, of course excusing himself from the table. As he walks down the hall to the bathroom, House figures out what is off. Wilson is wearing jeans that are more fitted than usual! Dare he think it, they might even be called flattering. With that House knows that his girlfriend helped him out with the purchase since no one else would pay that much attention to Wilson’s ass other than his girlfriend. And House. Of course.

House laughs to himself as they play until nine thirty as the rest of the group need to head home. As expected, Wilson helps him tidy up and they wash off a few dishes and load the dishwasher. Stealthily, House positions himself behind Wilson as he bends over to put some items away.

The cracking sound of a dishtowel hits Wilson’s butt as he releases one of his predictable girly yelps and turns to House in shock. 

“What the fuck House?” Wilson looks shocked, and his eyes dart around quickly as he looks for some sort of ammunition for payback. House realizes he may have primed his best friend for puerile pranks far beyond necessary.

“Nice jeans Wilson. Did your girlfriend pick those out for you?” He smirks as he moves so that the kitchen island separates them.

Wilson glances back and forth as he wets his lips before putting his hands on his hips. “And if she did?”

“She’s got a good sense of fashion. They look nice.” House smiles as he waits to see Wilson’s response.

Looking back and forth and keeping his hands on his hips, he seems hesitant waiting for something else to happen. After a few seconds of silence, it becomes clear nothing else is following the tea towel attack and Wilson speaks.

“Thanks. They are quite comfortable and do look better than my other pairs. Though I have to qualify that my girlfriend didn’t pick them out, she just took me to a store where there was ample selection.”

House grunts in reply as he holds out his hand for a dishwasher soap pellet. Wordlessly, Wilson bends back down to open the box under the sink. Reaching across the island he hands it to House.

As the dishwasher starts, they walk back to the living room. “Thirteen gave me her letter of resignation yesterday. I’m going to talk to Cuddy about finding a replacement on Friday.” House hovers at the entrance as he scratches the back of his head as Wilson turns to him in genuine surprise.

“Oh. I guess it was only a matter of time before this would happen. Have you talked to the team about it?” Wilson is asking him the most predictable question, and, in this moment, it comforts House so much.

Shaking his head, he quietly replies that he is waiting until he knows what his hiring situation is from Cuddy. There have been a lot of recent hires in other departments and House has a hunch that luck may not be on his side at this point in time, until he hears back about his staffing grant proposal which won’t inform applicants of the results until May.

As Wilson bundles up, he nods and heads out the door as he says goodbye. The door shuts and then a moment later pops open as Wilson’s head pokes in. 

“Let me know how your meeting with Cuddy goes and what the budget is. I might have a solution for you.” and with that Wilson’s head disappears into the Wednesday night.

House scratches his head and strokes his chin. What crazy idea does Wilson have for him? Selecting a medical student to help out since they are cheap labor? That’s not like Wilson, he’s greatly in favor of not using people. 

Walking to the bathroom, he moves slowly wondering what Wilson could be thinking and he suddenly recalls the oncologist who covered for Wilson while he was in Montreal. Not like he’d suggest the exceptionally dull and hot woman, that’s just silly, she’s clearly got it all in the city. Princeton-Plainsboro is too scrappy for someone like her, that’s why it works for his current team. Brushing off that thought, House pulls his heating pad out of the cabinet and prepares to heat his leg and he gets ready for bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah yes, a calm connecting chapter. 
> 
> 'High Fidelity' the book hit too close to home at certain points - the small passage about going to a record store and having to purchase something. I have never felt so called out in my entire life as in that one paragraph.
> 
> I really want to work on how people can deal with relationship 'conflict' in a productive way, so expect more conversations between Wilson and his girlfriend about how they see things in their relationship.


	33. the winter blahs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm really running out of clever things to put here. My epic long story of what it would like to be to date Wilson continues. So if domestic fluff and banal bits excites you, this is for you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It has been longer than I would have liked between chapters. But the first two weeks of December are always busy due to work and this year with COVID it was 100x times worse. For me, I dream of my year ending with a bang, but it is always a whimper. This year, it was like crawling over a finish line. That is how exhausted I am. I was going to start my winter break later this week, but not feeling 100%, I'm taking this morning off and relaxing working on this.

After your conversation with Wilson on Monday evening, he gives you space for the next few days. It is nice and after thinking about the whole concept of only having sex at certain times during the week, you begin to wonder if you should think about this more. It is interesting, you fall into your default adult routine; get up – feed Keith – eat breakfast – drive to work – eat lunch – drive home – make dinner – hang out with Keith – shower – go to bed. Repeat for several days. Except this time away from Wilson was punctuated by text messages from him; nothing complicated, just short statements like ‘have a good day’ or ‘sleep well, see you soon’.

Wednesday evening before your art class, he sends you a text that tomorrow will be a surprise date, but to dress casually and he’ll see you at six thirty. The art class focuses on watercolors – but abstract. It is a harder concept to wrap your head around, you are a very precise person, so it is a struggle to “Feel the colors!” as the instructor encourages you to do. However, despite your struggle in freeing the color palette, you learn that there is a gallery opening and social on Friday that your instructor is participating in. Several other people from the class are planning on attending and you see this as finally an opportunity to make some real adult friends! 

Thursday is a cold and bright day, and you leave work at a reasonable hour. Wilson left a voicemail that he’d meet you at your place before heading to the mystery location for dinner. When you enter your apartment, Keith doesn’t rush to the door demanding supper and instead is sitting outside of the bathroom waiting for a likely Wilson to exit at any moment. His coat and shoes are next to the door. Loudly, you announce that you are home and a muffled reply indeed comes from the bathroom.

While you take off your winter outerwear, wonder what dinner is going to be tonight that it will be casual. For the sake of efficiency, you are already wearing an appropriate outfit, medium grey wool pants, a basic yellow t-shirt and a black sweater over top. The squeak of the door hinge indicates Wilson’s departure from the bathroom. You glance over the back of the couch to greet him and he makes a direct path towards you and leans over the back of the couch to give you a big hug and kiss. The oatmeal-colored v-neck sweater has made an appearance with the pink and cream striped shirt and you can see a pair of jeans. Only when he walks around to the front of the couch, can you tell that they are one of his new pairs and they look damn good on him.

“Nice pants.” You say this with a huge grin, and he stops to put his hands on his hips as he looks down at you. Tilting his chin up at a slight angle he pauses for a moment before replying.

“Why thank you. I’ve been told they make my ass look good.” He somehow walks the fine line of sarcastic sass and actual graciousness about the compliment. 

Suddenly, you feel a blush forming on your face and you are at a loss for words at that moment. In your silence, he moves forward and crawls up over you on the couch, a puerile grin growing across his face. Keeping his composure, he leans over you as you fall back along the length of the couch. “Perhaps you’d like to inspect them further.” And he kisses you impatiently and your hands grab onto his lower back. Before you know it, the two of you are the middle of a hot and messy make out session and your hands have settled on his well framed bum in the jeans. It feels good under your touch and Wilson moans into your mouth. There is no way you are making it to supper until other things are taken care of . . .

After a quickie, you find yourself freshening up in the bathroom and you stomach growls loudly. Yelling out to Wilson laying on the couch sexually satiated for the moment, you tell him you hope the place for dinner is close by, because you now are starving.

He sits up sloppily, his hair fluffed out on one side. “Oh, don’t worry, it is only a ten-minute walk. We are going to Bamboo Garden.”

You are relieved to know it indeed is a place that has fairly fast order to food delivery time. Just before seven, the two of you bundle up and walk to the restaurant which is half empty and there is something comforting in the lack of excitement and energy. More aware of Wilson’s dietary tastes, you let him pick a meat main and you’ll select one of the many variations of tofu and veggies, settling on a cashew and pepper dish. He laughs that he’s going to the rather dull, but picks the orange chicken, which does taste good even though it is very much lame white guy.

The temperature seems to have dropped even more during your uneventful and domestic dinner and you find yourself pulling him close to you as you walk back to your apartment. Wordlessly, he wraps his right arm around you, and you think you feel warmer even though an arm isn’t going to make that much of a difference in the grand scheme of things. Yet if feels soooooo good. Why?

The evening then settles into some lazy snuggling on the couch watching the travel channel. Wilson tells you that tomorrow he’s got spend some time with House, but he’d like you to stay over at his place for Friday and Saturday night. He’ll make sure you are able to get up early enough on Saturday to feed Keith and head to the indoor Farmer’s Market. Sleepily, you agree to his plan even though it still makes you a little nervous. Just like when you were walking home, that feeling pulls at you; it does make you feel good.

As it is near the end of the week, neither of you are up for excessive extracurricular activities. The following morning is as efficient as expected with Wilson. He blow dries and styles his hair while you get dressed and while at work you find yourself wondering what to wear to the art gallery opening tonight as well as what to pack in your overnight bag. It has been sometime since you stayed over at his place and you can’t quite remember what you left over there – best to just make sure you have two full outfits.

The gallery opening is nice. You are able to talk to more people from your class and it is low pressure and there is absolutely no gatekeeping of art appreciation. Feeling comfortable with a few people, you swap contact info, and they look like putative friends for low key adult socializing times. There are lots of local artists showing a wide range of media; paintings, quilting, photography, ceramics and pop art prints. 

It wraps up just after nine and you head home, to feed and brush Keith before heading to Wilson’s place. Since you are going to the indoor Farmer’s market tomorrow, a casual outfit will be fine and you select your classic winter staple: tights, A-line knee length plaid wool skirt and a sweater. The need to feed Keith tomorrow morning, you hold off on selecting the second outfit, but pull out other casual clothing for Sunday, corduroy pants, wool socks, a band t-shirt and the crew neck Purdue sweatshirt.

With a twinge of anxiousness, you grab your things and remind Keith not to doing anything bad while you are gone. The drive to Wilson’s place feels more serious than usual. Or is it that you are feeling guilty for not spending that much time at his place? After pulling into the second parking space, you use the fob to enter the elevator up to his floor and the set of keys he gave you earlier this morning on his way out the door. He must have been dying to hand off the set of keys to you for weeks, but since you were reluctant to give him yours, he held off on the exchange until now.

Opening the door, you loudly greet Wilson as you leave your outerwear in the small foyer before walking down the hallway to his open loft living room and kitchen. His head pops into view from the kitchen, as he’s loading the dishwasher with the dirty items from House’s visit earlier. They decided to call it an early night since House knew you were coming over and more importantly, House’s patient had taken a turn for the worse and he’s returning to PPTH to check on their vitals in hope of cracking the case.

You pop into his bedroom to drop off your items and check the drawers to see what you had left here previously besides underwear and socks. There is a set of pjs and a t-shirt so, not a whole lot. While fussing about you hear the soft footsteps of him approach from behind you. He embraces you in a huge hug, sneaking a kiss on the side of your neck.

“Hey there. I don’t know about you, but I could go for a nice relaxing bath.” His hands squeeze gently on your hips and you sigh at the thought. Nodding, you turn to face him, his hands still on your hips. 

“That sounds lovely. Need any help?” You smile at him and the warmth of his brown eyes feels very calm and safe. 

With a bit of a flare, he gestures with his left hand, “That won’t be necessary, though I appreciate the thought.” He smirks back at you as he steps back and into his master bathroom. “It will be only a matter of minutes.”

The sound of the tap turns on and you flop down onto his bed face first. Dark blue flannel bedsheets and a matching comforter are properly made even though no one but him sees them. You inhale deeply getting a mix of his musky scent and the light tickle of his fabric softener. Melting into the bed you think about how it is nice to be pampered and close your eyes. 

“Hey, everything is ready.” Wilson’s voice is just loud enough to hear him but still soft like how the night is going to go. You roll over on the bed and he smiles down at you. Offering his right hand, you take it, and he leads you to the bathroom; a few small candles flicker and steam rises off of the water in the tub. The scent of tropical flower wafts over to you. It isn’t something specific more like the mix of the tropical greenhouse at a horticultural garden. 

As if he could read your mind, Wilson notes that it is a generic mix of amazon forest scents, but that the water has bergamot essential oil. Turning your usually overactive brain off, you undress and step into the hot water, relaxing immediately. Wearing a t-shirt and flannel lounge pants, Wilson is able to easily pull up the stool next to you in the tub and gives you a neck and shoulder massage before washing your hair. His hands are firm and exact in their actions; you struggle to keep your eyes open as it allows you to relax further. He hums in approval of your blissed-out state and you place your hands on the rim of the tub to prevent prune fingers. 

Suddenly, there is the sound of sloshing water as you open your eyes to see Wilson stepping into the tub across from you. He looks a little guilty before making puppy dog eyes at you.

“I was wondering if you could scrub my back?” Wilson’s voice is too adorable to ignore. You sit up and grab a few of the supplies from just outside of the tub and get to work. This time you take the time to pay attention to the tiny details on his back. Tension is found in his upper back and around his neck; the only thing to do is to massage them gently. Sighing heavily, Wilson hums as you work on a knot or two. With some effort, the muscles loosen up and content with your efforts, you move on to wash his hair. You can’t get over how soft it is in your hands as the lather covers his head. 

Hair washed, Wilson turns to face you, also looking very sleepy and yawning. Seeing his yawn then makes you yawn back at him as he laughs lightly before standing up. “Come on, let’s not pass out in the tub.” Nodding, you follow suit and the two of you quietly finish up your routine and settle into his bed. 

Wilson makes sure to set the alarm for eight, allowing you to have enough time to take care of Keith before heading to the Farmer’s Market. He turns off the bedside lamp, rolls to you and spoons you from behind as he snuggles even closer into your back.

“Good night.” He kisses the outside of your ear and settles back into a comfortable position.

“Night.” Your reply is barely audible as you are rapidly falling asleep. Before you realize it, you are asleep.

* * *

Waking up in the dark before dawn, Wilson feels a body pressed against his. His girlfriend deeply sleeps next to him, her back flush up against his making that part of him feel warmer than usual. Glancing at his alarm clock, he can see the red LED numbers, 6:51. Oh goodness, it is past Keith’s breakfast time he thinks to himself wondering if her cat has trained him to know when to wake up. . . 

Carefully, as to not wake her up, he slowly inches away and then turns to face her back. He then spends some time just watching her sleep in his bed, feeling good about where things are going for the most part. Though, it would be a lot easier to live with her – but there is no way that is something that she’ll warm up to quickly. Based on how long it took for her to share her keys with him.  
  
Not giving it much thought, he begins to nuzzle her neck and press himself into her more urgently. As she wakes up, he finds it easy to engage in some soft sex. She wasn’t kidding about having no problem with sexual activities on the weekend. By time they are done, morning light fills the room, and the alarm hasn’t even gone off yet.

He kisses her on the cheek before getting up to use the bathroom and start his usual routine. She laughs in embarrassment, clear that she still has a way to go with accepting all of the trimmings of a long-term relationship, but he can tell if they work on it, things will be alright.

As he dresses in his bedroom, she pops her head in the doorway; she’s off to her place to feed Keith. Of course, she’s already dressed and ready for the day. Before he can even offer to drive her to place, she’s in the foyer putting her coat on. Still in his underwear, he quickly moves to the hallway to tell her to slow down.

“Hey!” He has to think quick to find a way to get her to slow down, “I just had an idea. Why don’t we go to your place together? We can head to the market directly from there. It would be more efficient.”

She pauses halfway putting her boots on and he watches her neutral expression as she ponders his suggestion. Tilting her head to the side, she completes putting her boots on. “Okay. That sounds like a good idea. Where do you keep your shopping bags? I can grab them for you while you finish getting dressed.”

Wilson smiles internally. She is so much like House! As long as you use logic, she’ll agree to doing things together. He tells her the location of his shopping bags and continues to dress, selecting one of his new pairs of jeans with a dress shirt and sweater. A few minutes later they are in his car, driving to her place to feed Keith. Very insistent meows greet them at the door as they enter, and Keith rubs their legs as she scoops out kibble. He volunteers to clean the litterbox while she changes the water dish. 

Feline needs taken care of, they head to the Farmer’s Market and he visits all of his usual vendors after eating seasonal scones with coffee of course. With her staying over, he wants to make a special dinner, or at least something a bit fancier. Feeling adventurous, he decides to get fresh trout and will bake it with a safe choice of lemon and light herbs. The shopping bags slowly fill and by time he’s done, they are both carrying all of his goods. Well mainly his, she picked up a few cheeses for herself.  
  
It slides into a lazy Saturday afternoon after eating a light lunch. Wilson’s laundry washes and tumble dries in the background as they lounge on his couch watching nothing in particular. It is nice. Just low key, suburban nice. 

The jingle of the washing machine rouses him from his position of comfort, and he starts to think about making supper. As he putters around in the kitchen, asks him if he’d like any help. Not one to say no to assistance when it comes to cutting/chopping/cleaning produce, he waves her up with a smile and nod of his head. Together, they prepare green beans, potatoes to roast and get the trout read with some garlic, lemon and dill. The oven pre-heats and they fuss with organizing everything. She anxiously glances at the clock. 

“After dinner, I’d like to take you to the café near your place in the historic district. How about feeding Keith after then?” Wilson makes sure to sound as cool and collected as possible, since he’s been waiting to try to take her to the café since House so rudely interrupted their second date.

Rubbing her neck, he watches as her shoulders relax and she nods quietly. It is a good suggestion. He can tell that she’s feeling out of place at his condo and honestly, he can’t blame her. He feels a bit off too, his place seems cold and empty compared to her cozier place. It may have to do with how her décor shows her personality and adds a warmth to the apartment. In contrast, his place is sterile. House gave him hell about it when he lived with him, but now that he’s back in his rustic masculine apartment, all that remains of House’s bold personality is the organ sitting in the corner gathering dust.

This never bothered Wilson before. Why does this bother him now so much? His girlfriend is by no means the first woman he’s dated who has a strong opinion on interior design. Hell, he’s not even living with her and he sees the contrast so clearly.

The sun sets as dinner cooks and they quietly eat his healthy and slightly fancier meal. She seems impressed by it, commenting on how she struggles to cook fish with roasted vegetables well. Wilson playfully nudges her with his elbow, and she is explicitly clear that she’s being honest! He knew that already, but he needs to do something to broach the awkwardness in his place. They clean up, put the leftovers away and load the dishwasher before heading out to the café near her place.

The café is basic, he’s pretty sure it is stuck in 1985 based on the outdated color schemes, beige and dark brown elements mixed with the 50s/60s retro elements. He watches her closely as she examines the establishment, and they are quickly seated at a small booth. Well-worn menus are at the side with handwritten corrections for some of the prices. The place is quiet, reflecting the post-holiday slump. She pulls out the menus and hands one over to him as she reads it carefully before making a perplexed expression.

“Okay, I haven’t been here yet and they have a wide range of options from simple ice cream sundaes to items with complicated local names. Also, the prices either indicate this is very high-end ice cream or the portion sizes are large?” Her eyebrow arches up with her question.

Wilson laughs, “This is by no means super fancy ice cream, but it is made locally. It is the latter; their portion sizes are quite generous.” 

Putting her elbow on the table and chin in her palm she looks over the menu quickly before looking at him. “I’m not sure what I want, but if the serving size is large, we should split it.”

“Gotcha.” Wilson’s reply allows him to wave over the lone waitress presiding over the mainly empty room. She sighs, shrugs her shoulders in a sort of stretch and saunters over to their table before pulling her yellow pad out of her apron pocket.

“What canna get for you?” Her 'zest' for life is shown through her enthusiasm for taking their order.

Wilson turns on his best customer service smile and charm. “We’ll have the classic banana split and two cups of hot tea.” She tilts her head at an extreme angle as she writes down the order and promptly turns to deliver the ticket to the ice cream counter to make.

“Oh, going for a classic sundae! I haven’t had a banana split in years.” Her voice is excited as she continues, “It somehow seems so very **_you_** to order it.”

He can’t help to turn on the charm as he replies, “Well, it just depends how you look at it. Only one flavor of ice cream in it is vanilla.” And he winks at her as she laughs at his tacky joke.

“Am I to read between the lines at your comment?” Her question is flirty for her and it makes him feel good.

Continuing the mood slowly forming around them, he modestly shrugs making sure to avoid her gaze for a moment before reluctantly looking at her. “That’s for **_you_** to decide.”

She’s about to reply when the banana split is placed forcefully between them and two spoons clatter on the table next to them.

“I’ll be out with your hot tea in a few minutes.” The server says this in a half mumble, but he doesn’t even really notice since he’s carefully watching that spark in her eyes, wanting to stoke it a little more.

The dish of ice cream is large for one person, but definitely not too much for two to share. Unless you are pre-rehab House and you skipped several meals before binging on a sundae post-puzzle solution. His thoughts only linger on House for a moment before remembering everything is okay and returns his focus to his immediate needs. Eating part of the dessert and making sure that they are going to have good sex tonight.

His girlfriend is more excited than he would have guessed by the selection. It seems it is nostalgic for her as she describes a local ice cream and candy shop where she grew up having something that was similar. 

Spoons scrape the dish as they finish off the three flavors of ice cream, banana, light drizzling of chocolate sauce, whipped cream and of course they split the cherries equally between them. The hot tea arrives at the perfect time to wash away the sweetness and warm them up. Ice cream in winter isn’t popular for the obvious reasons.

After paying the bill, they walk towards her building, her need to make sure Keith is well fed driving a quick pace. Meows of pained hunger greet them as she scoops out a late supper and tidies up a few things. Once Keith has received proper attention, her voice pulls him out of his thoughts, “Any plans for tomorrow? I need to know what to wear.” 

Rubbing the back of his head he can’t think of anything in particular. “Nope. I assume you have to run errands tomorrow and whatnot?” Her grunt and curt nod tell him all he needs to know, and she packs a small bag with items.

The winter night is cold, and he can’t wait to be back in his car and back home, she seems more at ease in the car. In the entryway, they remove their outwear wear and shoes. He turns to walk towards the kitchen when her arms wrap around his waist from behind and her face presses into his back.

Wilson comes to a halt in surprise. Could she be making a move on him barely into the door? The answer appears to be a clear yes. His entire body vibrates in excitement. The hesitation and reluctance from yesterday have dissipated; it feels like they’ve taken another small step forward towards something.

Wilson begins to turn his body and she relaxes her arms enough to let him pivot to face her. She licks her lips in anticipation taking a few steps back towards the small foyer leading him. With a glance back, she hops up onto the table and wordlessly he presses into her. Letting himself be led, he lowers his head a touch and her arms and legs wrap around him and they begin to make out. It feels like a slow burn build up from her. Force is underneath yet she is going to take her time. Fingers slip under shirts to feel skin below, teasing him. 

Finally, tired of only being able to kiss him in a limited fashion, she whispers into his right ear, “Bedroom. Now.” He grins as he helps her down off the entryway table and she almost pushes him backstepping down the hall until she grabs him by the hand towards his bedroom.

In the middle of the bed, they return to kissing, more impatiently. She makes fast work of removing her sweater to show a cotton tank top underneath and he pulls off his sweater at the same time. He is shocked to see her also tossing her skirt off to the side, now in tights and she settles in his lap. With gentle and solid direction, she leads him to lay on his back below her and her expression is so serious. 

The bare arms feel nice in his hands and he lets her take the lead this evening. It feels good to let her take cares tonight, here in his place. As things build between them, he only notices that their fingers have become intertwined right as she collapses on top of him, sweaty and flushed. When did this happen? Did he reach out to her, or did she take his hands? It is unknown to him but he is not going to take this lightly.

Her body recovers and he asks her if she’s okay. Of course, she reassures him that she’s fine and he politely asks her if he can change their position. Right before they move, he brings her right hand to his lips as he kisses her fingers between his. Suddenly, her attention is on him and he looks into her wide-open eyes. 

  
“I love you.” he makes sure to speak just above a whisper and watches as she struggles to articulate a reply. Wilson uses the moment to change their arrangement on his bed and he leans down to kiss her slowly as he begins to focus on himself as well as her.

After he comes (of course managing to get her off one more time) he nuzzles his sweaty face into her neck. This time, he makes sure to be deliberate in the placement of his hands and he reaches out to interlace his fingers between hers. Pulling himself so that his nose is almost touching her he smiles, “Hey.” 

Looking slightly embarrassed, she smiles before replying with a similar, “Hey.”

The grin across his face grows as he looks into her eyes, “Guess what?”

Her eyes dart around his face at his question. “What?”

Moving closer so that his nose touches hers, he pauses. “I really love you.”

He can almost feel the heat from the blush across her face. Her eyes shift to the side for a moment feeling the intensity of his emotions. Swallowing, her lips are taught for a moment before she pauses again. Then in a voice that is quiet, tentative, she speaks. “I know.” And then in that moment the pause is almost oppressive between them, full of potential. “I love you too.”

Suddenly, a flood of happiness washes over him as he kisses her, his hands cupping her cheeks. When he releases the kiss, he knows he’s likely beaming since her face is a mix of lingering embarrassment and an expression he’s never seen before – a sort of contentment mixed with something he’s not quite sure of. 

Wilson hadn’t been planning on anything else for the evening’s activities, but her reply has literally gone straight to his crotch and round two begins.

Much later, the two of them drift off to sleep too exhausted to bother with any ordinary post-coital routine besides an obligatory trip to the toilet. A feeling of comfort surrounds him, and any deep thoughts are unable to stick in his mind.

* * *

You wake up feeling different on Sunday morning. As awareness returns to your body, you feel Wilson’s arm over your torso and he makes a soft whimpering noise before pressing into your back. Your bare back, and your skin notices the texture of the flannel sheets from head to toe! 

That’s right! Last night you didn’t even bother to shower or put on your pajamas, instead you feel asleep naked and the parts of your body that are currently touching Wilson feel hot due to his touch. They begin to feel even hotter as you recall the evening’s events. Swallowing, you recall that you told Wilson that you love him. **_Out loud!_** This man is making you feel and say things you’ve never felt comfortable saying before. More that you may have thought them previously, but you never dared to be this honest.

It felt good though and the second round was incredible. Wilson brought out sexual skills that were unlike any you had experienced. Recalling how it felt, you begin to want to know what it would be like again.

Mumbling something in his sleep he rolls over so that his back is now facing yours and you turn to watch him. His hair is messy against the pillow and in the dim light your eyes trace his outline from his right ear, down his chin, following his neck. From his shoulder, to his side all the way to his partially exposed waist. Instinctively, your reach out to caress his waist, lightly running your fingertips along it until you hold onto his side. 

Sighing under your breath, you move so that you are flush against his back and gently work towards waking him up. When Wilson wakes up he sighs loudly before it builds into a moan and you kiss him just forcefully enough that he’ll become more active.

Once satisfied, you lay with your head across his chest and the two of you babble about nothing in particular in the weak morning light. It seems more grey than yellow indicating an overcast sky. 

The sound of a phone vibrating is loud enough in the morning calm that Wilson reaches out to pull it over. “Might be work. I should at least check the caller.”

He looks at the phone as your face feels the movement of his chest. 

“Hello?” The tone of his voice has a twinge of concern and you look up at his face, neutral but waiting to know how to react. You can’t discern the caller’s exact words, but it is a woman’s voice.

“Wait? You are where right now?” The concern in his voice has shifted from possible worry to a sort of panic. You scrutinize his facial expressions closely as he listens to the caller further. Gathering all of the calm he can, he wraps up the call.

“Okay. See you then. Bye.” Wilson’s voice is polite and once hanging up he tosses the phone somewhere on the bed and sighs loudly as he brings his hands to his face.

You can’t help but ask him a simple “What?”

Rubbing his eyes, he looks at you, “That was my Mom. Apparently, my parents are on their way to visit my brother and sister-in-law in Philly. Of course, they are already on the road and are about an hour and a half from Princeton and they want to have breakfast with me.” 

“Oooohhh.” Your voice sort of drifts off. 

“Yeeaaahhhhh.” He snuggles down to be even with you in the bed and you lay facing each other on your sides. “I’m not really keen on meeting them this morning. It would have been nice to have some advance warning.”

You pat him on his hip under the comforter. “It isn’t that big of a deal, but I can understand having something spontaneous happen. At least they didn’t show up while we were still having sex.”

Wilson laughs and then his face freezes in horror. “Oh shit. I forgot to even mention that you are here. Shit!” He looks like deer in headlights. “Do you even want to meet them? Is this the right time? Is this too soon?”

Only then does his panic spread to you as well. “Ah.” You look at him. “I dunno, they are your parents.”

He holds his hands over his face as he flops on to his back next to you. “Argh. They have to get to Philly before eleven, so they can’t be here that long.” Sliding his hands down over his face he sighs before turning to look at you with his soft brown eyes. “It is only breakfast. I think it will be alright? Right?” It is clear that he wants you to join him.

Honestly, this is a situation that you have never really been in, so you are unsure if this is too fast or too slow or too something. Nodding you reply you will, and he rolls over onto you. “Thank you.” he smiles and leans down to kiss you. His kiss is sweet, with his tongue slipping into your mouth. Sneakily, he reaches one hand into your hair, his fingers scraping your scalp, pulling lightly. 

You can’t resist him, moaning in response and he quickly settles between your legs. This time, he makes sure to not linger and glances at the clock while still over you. “We’ve got about an hour to get ready.” He winks before playfully slapping your thigh and heading to the bathroom. 

Dazed, you clean up and get dressed. Only as you look in the mirror you realize you are wearing a laid-back outfit, corduroy pants, a Wolf Parade shirt and your Purdue sweatshirt over it. At least you won’t be judged as trying too hard to impress? Maybe?

The sound of a high-end hair dryer interrupts your thoughts and you finish up with your minimal routine, hair still wrapped up in a towel. When it turns off, it signals your turn to borrow it to style your hair. Wilson is massaging his facial moisturizer into his cheeks when you reach out to borrow the dryer. His hair is extra swooshy and he’s wearing the dark grey v-neck sweater with the blue and white striped dress shirt and a pair of medium grey slacks. He smiles at you, as he fusses with his appearance and you struggle with taming your hair. It isn’t perfect, but you can at least use a little product to make it look decent enough.

He then flutters about tidying things up, making sure his apartment looks orderly (when he barely has anything to worry about) and you busy yourself with packing up your dirty laundry. This time his phone rings and he quickly picks it up. He wanders the room while replying to his Mom with short replies of; Okay, Yes, No, Yes etc. It finally ends with a “See you soon.”

Ruffling his hair nervously, he looks at you, “They are about fifteen minutes away. They are coming here first. We are just going to walk across the street to the café that we’ve been to before for breakfast.”

The two of you fidget on his couch for the next fifteen minutes. His phone rings and he buzzes them into the lobby of the condo. Standing up, he brushes his hands on his pants, runs his hand though his hair one last time before walking down the hallway. The sound of his footsteps are measured. The door opens and you suddenly find yourself on the couch, listening to soft voices before multiple footsteps head down the hallway to the living room.

They enter the loft living area and you stand up from the couch as they approach. Wilson is a few steps ahead of his parents. His Mom is shorter than him and looks polished and put together. Her hair is simple yet elegantly arranged in one of those loose ponytails, streaks of dark brown hair still visible. She’s wearing an emerald green cardigan over a crisp white collared shirt and khaki pants and kitten heels in matching green. The classic look with bright colors immediately informs you where Wilson's style came from. She’s the female version of him – no wait – he’s the male version of her. In direct contrast is his Dad. Just as tall as Wilson, his Dad has a relaxed posture. A vintage Rutgers sweatshirt (likely classified that only due to the age) over dark green corduroy pants and sensible dark brown boots. His hair is grey and cut shorter than Wilson’s but it has a similar wildness to it as though he never bothered to invest in a one hundred something hair dryer and products. 

Wilson moves to your side as he introduces you to his parents adding that you’ll be joining them for breakfast. You instinctively reach out to shake his Mom’s hand, and while you take her hand, she introduces herself as Ruth and not only do you notice her firm grip but her striking hazel colored eyes, full of strength and determination. This is a matriarchal household. 

Next you turn to his Dad, who quietly introduces himself as Joel, with a sweet smile just like his son’s. He’s got the same soft chocolate brown eyes and bushy eyebrows and warmth. His hand is rougher than Wilson’s but has that similar solid and gentle touch. You can tell that Wilson is a combination of both parents with many physical features of Joel, but a for lack of a better term, that feminine air that surrounds Ruth giving him a more sensitive and delicate edge that Joel lacks.

“Shall we head across the street to get breakfast? I have to admit I’m quite hungry.” Wilson’s taking the lead to move things along and you all head to the foyer to put on your coats and walk across the street. The nineties themed café is playing a Lilith Faire compilation in the background as you enter. A pleasant hum of activity greets you and Wilson talks to the hostess. The early morning crowd with an average age of about seventy is wrapping up and it will be less than ten minutes. Sitting down you aren’t quite sure what to do; thankfully Wilson softly taps your leg and takes the lead. He asks his parents how the drive was so far. Ruth’s reply is a short fine and Joel takes over with a rather detailed explanation of checking three different weather forecasts, NJ and PENDOT traffic reports and a final pass at Google traffic. His answer is so through that by time he’s done your table is ready and the four of you are seated at a booth next to a window. 

A chipper waitress comes to the table beaming happiness and asks if she could get drink orders. Wilson and his Dad immediately look towards his Mom. She firmly and politely asks what the tea selection is and after hearing the full list selects a green tea latte. Wilson gestures to you next and you order a black coffee. Quickly his Dad orders a coffee with cream and Wilson picks his usual.

The next few minutes everyone looks over the menu, and you listen to the standard family lines about what they are in the mood for. A fan of eggs for breakfast you are easily able to decide on the eggs Benedict as notice how Wilson doesn’t even look at the menu. Instead, he walks Ruth through the menu in great detail answering all the questions he can about each item. 

The waitress returns with glasses of water and steaming hot mugs of caffeinated goodness. She asks if everyone is ready looking at Ruth. “Oh yes, but check with me last, I’m still finalizing my order.” She gestures towards you and you look nervously towards Wilson and he smiles reassuringly. You place your order and Wilson then follows with the French Toast with apples. His Dad gets oatmeal, with a side of grapefruit. Lastly, returning to his Mom she orders an egg white omelet with mixed vegetables and a side of turkey bacon.

No longer does the small talk of the menu protect you from directly engaging with his parents. Ruth dives in directly to ask you what you do and when you met James. She doesn’t waste any time!

Taken aback by her directness, you explain that you work for the crop science division of the large well known chemical company that they are certainly well aware of. She asks for more information, how long you have worked there, what you do more specifically and all sorts of stuff. It is a lot to wade through and you are unsure what her exact background is, so you do your best to guess here general knowledge base. 

Not missing a beat, she asks if you met James through his drug trial review panels. Yep, even though he doesn’t talk about his family a lot, it is clear that when they do talk, he communicates well with them – not shocking at all really. You clarify that you don’t interact with the pharmaceutical part of the company, only sharing the parking lot and café between the research wings on campus.

Before she can ask another question, you continue to explain that you met Wilson outside of work back in September. You leave out the exact details of the speed dating, that isn’t necessary. Wilson relaxes a little as he looks back and forth between the two of you and lightly adds that he did not meet you at work. Ruth’s eye arches up slightly at his comment before she continues to ask you more questions.

You realize this is the first time you explain fully to others the complete details of your move to Princeton, explaining things you haven’t even told Wilson. How you quit your previous position in May, packed up all of your belongings and your cat, and unloaded some of them in your current place, but still have other items in storage, that you will deal with when you find a more permanent apartment in Princeton with a little more space.

Ruth seems eager to know more about why you decided to quit your previous job, but Joel softly asks what was so large you couldn’t store it. Realizing it sounded extreme, you clarify that it is mainly your bikes and their accessories. They are sitting in your parents’ basement, but you’ll likely retrieve them in the spring. At the mention of bikes his Dad’s face lights up.

He eagerly asks if you cycle and you damn well know that is a question from a fellow cyclist. As the food arrives at your table you explain between bites of bready-eggy goodness. You describe your low-end Scott road bike, and Joel gently enquires about groupset, speed, wheels, pedals, and you answer all of them; Tigra, ten speed, Ursus entry level, Look etc etc. Ruth clears her throat and comments that her husband should give you a chance to eat. The irony of the situation makes you laugh a little inside and Wilson finally gets around to asking them what they are doing at Ethan’s place. 

She explains that Sarah and David are helping the local Audubon Society build bird nest boxes and Joel is going to help them with a pattern his local conversation group uses. They are going to use Ethan’s well-equipped workshop to do a make a few with Joel’s guidance. The conversation shifts back to Wilson’s family. He asks about his brother Danny, who is volunteering with the local birding group in a migratory bird count in their area this morning and then going to a strength building exercise class in the afternoon. The conversations show how his family cares about each other and really seems to be environmentally aware and participate in local activism. 

Just as things get almost too serious, you sense a lingering sense of something between Wilson and his Mom, Joel asks you when you went to Purdue and if you are a dedicated Boilermaker. Shrugging, you clarify that you did your Ph.D. at Purdue, so your sense of university spirit is rather weak all things considered, and that you only bought this shirt in due to finding the older griffin seal and not the ‘horrible’ train or the Purdue Pete mascot.

He laughs, as he was curious if you had found it in a secondhand shop since he proudly declares that his sweatshirt is an original from his undergraduate days. Ruth rolls her eyes before making the cutting comment of, “I was really hoping you’d retire that shirt when you got grandchildren. At least James isn’t sporting his old McGill sweatshirt in public.” Wilson blushes as he ruffles his hair.

Meekly he states that, “I still wear my McGill shirt . . .” but never completes the statement as she looks at him, her brows furrowed.

You glance at your phone noticing it is just after nine and announce that you need to leave soon to go feed Keith. Wilson follows up that his parents must be needing to hit the road again as he waves to the waitress to request the check. Ruth replies that they aren’t in a rush, but they should be back on the road by nine-thirty, Joel nodding in agreement. You use the excuse of feeding Keith as a way to depart before they have settled the bill. Wilson stands up to let you out of the booth and leans down for a quick kiss on your cheek before you tell his parents it was nice to meet them and you let him know you’ll text him after finishing your errands and chores. With that you head back to Wilson’s condo to collect your bag of dirty clothing and drive back to your place to placate an upset feline. 

Before heading out for groceries, you do a few loads of laundry and tidy up as Keith keeps a close eye on you. You put on the self-titled album by The xx. The calming sounds fill your place and you reflect on your unanticipated encounter with Wilson’s parents. It didn’t take a leap of logic to see how he was a product of their two very different personalities; his soft mannerisms and friendliness were clearly from his Dad, but the need to be professional, tidy and proper was definitely his Mom’s influence and his body language indicated that he was closer to her despite an undercurrent of trying to please her. Or at least that is what you think you observed. You know that Ruth Wilson is a strong woman and she’s the head of a household of men and it seems her feminine touch most strongly rubbed off on her middle child.

The rest of the day quickly goes by; grocery shopping, meal prepping and a call home to talk to your parents before Wilson texts you that he had to head into work to help out House and he’ll talk to you on Monday.

* * *

From the moment that he let his parents into his condo and introduced them to his girlfriend, Wilson has been operating at maximum capacity. His Mom quickly begins to assess her and bombarded her with questions that **_he_** hasn’t even asked her yet.

She handles them well and covers her nervousness. Or perhaps, she isn’t as nervous since she hasn’t met most of her previous significant other’s families? Either way, he’s glad that breakfast isn’t that complicated and relaxes when she leaves a little early to take care of Keith.

Not wanting to be over the top, he kisses her on the cheek before she leaves and sits back down across from his parents while the waitress brings him the small billfold to place his card in it. Quickly she passes by to pick it up and his parents smile at him before his Mom looks more serious.

“She’s quite different from the last girlfriend.” Ruth speaks directly at him, a neutral expression.

Blushing a little, he ruffles his hair and replies, “I guess so. I mean she still is a professional.” And he shrugs unsure of what else to say.

“Oh, I didn’t mean her job or professional training. She’s much quieter. It seems she doesn’t need your attention all the time. Introverted.” Ruth’s observation is dead on accurate. So accurate that Wilson hadn’t even noticed it.

Wilson distracts himself from his Mother’s piercing gaze by signing the receipt. He folds up his copy and places it in his wallet with the card.

His Dad switches the topic slightly, “Well, when she gets her bikes back from storage, let me know. I can show her some of the good trails and routes for cycling in your area. Hell, maybe you finally get on a bike yourself! I’ve only been mentioning it to you for years.”

Wilson makes a non-committal reply as they put their coats on and he leads them out and back to their parked car in the guest spots of his building. He tells his parents to send his regards to Ethan, Michelle, Sarah and David and to Danny as well. His Dad gives him a big warm hug as he starts up the car leaving him to talk to his Mom a few moments longer in semi-private.

“It was good to see you, even if it was brief James.” She hugs him with her delicate touch and he knows despite her forceful attitude, she cares about him and his personal relationships.

“Yeah, it was nice.” He smiles softly at her, “But next time, give me more of a warning.”

She sighs and rolls her eyes, her hands on her hips, “Fine fine. Next time let me know in advance if your girlfriend is at your place.” She turns to make sure her word is the last one and she settles into the passenger side of the Subaru wagon. 

Wilson steps back as the car backs up and he waves to them and they exit the garage. He sighs in release as the taillights disappear around a bend of the garage and he heads up to his condo, now quiet and very empty. 

He keeps himself distracted by putting on the local NPR station and begins cooking meals for this week. In the late afternoon, House calls him into PPTH; he needs his help with the current case and he also wants to discuss Thirteen’s replacement.

Knocking on the glass of the door, Wilson enters before giving his best friend a chance to look up from his computer. “Wilson! Excellent. Look at the patient’s chart and tell me what you see.” Barely glancing at him, a chart is offered to him from House’s right hand while he stares at his computer screen intently. Wilson flops down in his chair opposite of the desk and reads the chart in silence.

“You look rather put together for a lazy blah winter Sunday. Get dressed up for the girlfriend?” House playfully wiggles his eyebrows. 

Turning to House, he tosses the chart down on the desk, “Sadly not. Surprise breakfast visit from the parents. And they got to meet said girlfriend.”

House looks curious, “Oh how did that go? The combination of your laid back granola Dad and prim and proper upper middle class Mom is quite a force to meet at once.”

Ruffling his hair and slouching in the chair he looks at the ceiling. “Alright considering how socially awkward she can be at times. I think she wasn’t as nervous as most people since she hasn’t had too many ‘meet the parents’ situations. Sounds familiar doesn’t it?”

House bounces his ball against the wall, “I have no idea where you are getting that idea from.” He then shifts quickly to the original matter at hand, “What do you think of the chart?”

The next ten minutes are spend in discussion of the patient’s condition and a treatment plan and the shift to the search to find a new team member for the Diagnostics Department. Wilson explains that he thinks House should interview Eva. When House presses him for further information, Wilson slyly replies that he has a gut feeling that she’d accept it.

Intrigued by Wilson’s mystery around her, he grunts that he’ll look into her background but makes it clear that he’ll have to advertise the position for the federally required time period and all that HR shit that House normally tries to ignore. Which would have resulted in disasters if it weren’t for Cuddy’s excellent HR department and control of House’s wilder impulses.

Getting the team squared away with the new treatment plan, he and House head out for a later dinner before heading home. Wilson flops on his empty bed and finds himself hugging her pillow, already wishing it were Monday evening already. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed this low key chapter. Please imagine rather normal sex scenes if that floats your boat. I won't write another smutty chapter until something more dramatic happens. This is for two reasons; 1.) writing typical sex scenes gets boring and repetitive 2.) the original purpose of this fic is not to focus on the explicit bits. Instead, I'm focusing on the interpersonal aspects of all sorts of relationships.
> 
> Since adopting my cat (Keith's model) I have not dated someone. I'm honestly not sure how I'd handle things with him home alone and I know I'd feel guilty leaving him home alone.
> 
> It was rather unexpected, even for me, but I dropped in Wilson's parents! Nothing like the awkward situation of meeting key people in your significant other's life.
> 
> The xx. A band that I missed when their first album come out. Specifically, in the month of May 2009 where I have no memories of almost anything except attending my advisor's partner's funeral and pulling 12-13 hour days in the lab to finish my thesis.


	34. somewhat serious conversations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yeah. Let's talk about serious issues in relationships that many people gloss over. House, Wilson and his girlfriend and lastly Eva begins to change her direction.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two chapters posted in less than 24 hours! I hope you enjoy the low-key drama. Eva is back, as one of my friends loves her character and wants to know more about her. I guess, I've created several OCs, but she has a special place in my heart.

The sound of House’s sunbeam alarm clock rouses him, but he stays in bed not quite ready to get up. Today he has his meeting with Cuddy about finding Thirteen’s replacement at the painful hour of nine am. He uses some of the breathing techniques he learned in yoga to wake himself before rolling out of bed and limping less painfully to the shower.

Once satisfied with his signature stubble, he washes away the last of his trimmed hairs from his chin and puts on a more recent pair of jeans (maybe five years old only?) graphic t-shirt and a blue button down and a light grey plaid jacket. He reheats a buckwheat pancake from yesterday and sips a perfectly balanced pour over cup of black coffee.

He cleans off his car in the cold morning, watching his breath in the air surrounding him as his weak defroster tries its best to assist in his task. The drive to Princeton-Plainsboro is powered by unleaded gasoline and classic rock at maximum volume on his outdated analog radio and the tinny speakers struggle to deliver the audio quality the rest of his devices have.

Cuddy is surprised by his timely entrance for their meeting and tells him that he must be serious seeing that he is in at this early hour for him. He cleverly quips back that sleeping in is one of the benefits to not raising a small human. Her retort is quick and without hesitation it is usually due to Lucas, not Rachel. Obligatory sarcastic remarks exchanged they settle down to business. As he feared, due to the recent hires in other departments (including Wilson’s) they currently lack enough resources for a full-time team member. However, Cuddy makes it clear that if they got someone part time when more personnel lines opened up, the candidate would be more likely to be high priority for a full-time position. 

House throws out a random list of names from previous fellowship applicants and watches how Cuddy dismisses them with little thought. Then he drops the name of the dull yet incredibly attractive Eva Forrester. Cuddy’s attitude totally shifts at mention of her name. “Oh yes, Wilson’s colleague from specialization training at Penn. She got great reviews from both Oncology and the Clinic staff.” Cuddy pulls out a file with the short term feedback evaluation of her performance as an out of PPTH contract worker. She hands it to House.

“Doctor Forrester is worth calling to consider applying for the vacancy. She’s in the right price range and would have the advantage of previous rapport with PPTH. Not that she’ll have favoritism from the ‘new’ hiring committee that the board required for the Department of Diagnostic Medicine after your stunt two years ago with your team selection.”

House is not surprised at the file ready and waiting for him, this was all done by Wilson with Cuddy last week while he was sorting out his current case. What is unclear how on earth she is in the ‘right price’ range. 

Genuinely curious about Forrester, House vaguely seems interested. “Right price? Are we talking about the same person who wore head to tail designer clothing? Granted some of our surgeons here make bank, but they are the exception to the rule and part of their cost is covered through the tuition fees of our residents.”

Sighing and waving her hand to move House along, she begins to prepare for her next meeting, “Just look at her file and talk to Wilson. I’m sure he can provide you with more details than what I know.” 

House makes a grunt and excuses himself with Forrester’s file under his armpit as he walks through the doors and up to his office. Once settled into his large comfy chair, he opens the file and reads it to glean as much information as possible about her before talking to Wilson over lunch.

**Doctor Eva Siobhan Forrester – specialization – _oncology_ – B.Sc. – _SUNY Stoneybrook_ \- M.Sc. – _Northwestern_ in _developmental biology_ – M.D. – _U Chicago_ – Oncology specialization – _U Penn_. **

House is intrigued by the research experience before enrolling in medical school. He had assumed she was the same age as Wilson, but she’s likely two or three years older with that Masters. He’s more than impressed by the degree from U Chicago meaning she spent around ten years in the Chicago area and returned to the east coast for specialization training implying she was looking for a job in the area. He hates it when Wilson might be right. House likes being able to read a person from the material and the unspoken. Wilson on the other hand figures people out through talking to them.  
  
Her CV goes on to show that she is a partner in an oncology practice in Manhattan associated with several of the elite hospitals that due to their location imply a wealthy patient population. She has also participated in many clinical trials and reviewer panels which come with additional financial rewards. Based on how much she’s done, he doesn’t see much room for a long term relationship. . . . He’s not surprised by her home address in a high rise building a few blocks away from Central Park. What does catch his interest is that when she was covering for Wilson, she listed a local Princeton address as where she was staying for emergency purposes. He already makes a note to drive by it before heading home today.

As a partner in such a, dare he say it, profitable practice, he now can see why she’s affordable. What is missing is the reason she’d be interested in leaving it behind. His quick back of the envelope calculations tell him that unless she is a complete idiot with her finances, which is a possibility, he’d guess she paid off her condo a few years ago and put her money into her appearance as most of her clothing looked newer than Wilson’s expensive, but lasted through at least two marriages and divorces. His best friend’s idea of going wild with clothing is more like buying a new tie or underwear. Or socks, he learned years ago to never talk to the man about socks. Wilson is also much gentler on his items than House, so his stuff does hold up a lot better. 

Lastly, he gets his focus back reading over the staff comments about her. They aren’t glowing about her friendly personality or bedside manner. Instead, they all speak to her professional attitude, polite and efficient management of patients and most annoyingly, **_excellent_** charting and documentation.

House puts the file away in a drawer and begins the paperwork to pass along to HR to start the process to post the job and providing the necessary details and documentation as required by law. Wilson saunters into his office right on time, holding two Tupperware containers of some sort of healthy lunch. The younger man looks cute today. Likely he’s thinking of after time work with his girlfriend. The navy-blue sweater vest, one his blue striped ties, and the grey suit. Of course, he can’t miss that perfectly soft hair. House shouts into the main office where his team are filing paperwork and monitoring their now recovering patient. The group isn’t even surprised by his scandalous remarks and the lunch date with Wilson.

House thinks of a way he can ease into asking about Forrester, but it seems that Wilson is a few steps ahead of them as they eat vegetarian lasagna. “How interested are you in hiring Forrester?”

Wilson looks at him with a serious expression holding a scoop of the pasta on his fork before shoving it into his mouth.

“What makes you think I’d even consider her?” House laughs it off taking a sip of his fountain drink.

“Oh, come on. Cuddy had her file ready and waiting at my advice. It was the comment about her price range that piqued your interest didn’t it?”

Wilson has his smug smile that he uses when he’s outwitted House. This facial from expression from Wilson always stirs up mixed feelings for him. He loves the fact that his best friend on occasion outsmarts him. Then again, being the competitive individual that he is, it seems like a loss.

House pivots to pretend like Wilson didn’t know what he was thinking, “Naaaah, it wasn’t the fact that she seemed possible to hire. I noticed she has research experience aaaaannnnddd she listed a local address here in town for her.” Leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms in front of his chest, Wilson rolls his eyes.

“Oh sure, it is **_completely_** unheard of for people with intentions of attending medical school to improve their application by completing a Master’s degree in biomedical science before attending someplace as competitive as U Chicago.” Wilson is right, the M.Sc. isn’t a huge deal. 

What is curious is Wilson arches up that single eyebrow with interest. “What do you mean she had a local address? The last guy she was ‘dating’, if you could call it that, also lives in Manhattan.”

He leans forward over their table and shifts to speaking in a whisper, “What was the address?”

In that moment House is reminded why this man is his best friend before he tells him the address that he has already memorized.

Wilson thinks as he mentally maps it out, “That’s in Cuddy’s neighborhood isn’t it?” 

House grins back taking a slurp from his pop. “Yep. Wanna drive by later today?”

He then watches the mental calculations that Wilson makes before he replies. The ruffle of his hair immediately he is debating when to head to his girlfriend's and his curiosity at this mystery house. Wilson takes a few glances around them and leans closer. “Okay. I’m off Clinic duty at four today. We can drive by and then you can drop me off back here and I’ll head to my girlfriend's apartment afterwards.”

Devious plan in place, House feels excited that his partner in crime is not completely derailed by the presence of this current girlfriend. He notes that she is looking be perhaps the best significant other Wilson may have dated in a long time. Or ever? The rest of the lunch the two men shoot the shit about what trashy TV to watch later this week and head off to deal with stuff. Like adults.

* * *

At exactly four, Wilson clocks out of the Clinic and finds House already in his office waiting for him to head to his car. The two of them spend the drive trying to guess which of the quaint and appropriate priced for a middle-class family of 2.5 people is their target. 

House uses some of the tricks that Lucas taught him, and pulls his car over, putting on the hazards as he pulls out a roadmap to look like they are double checking an address with their phones as they look around.

They spent about two minutes pretending to bicker while they look at the two story bungalow with white vinyl siding, forest green trim and shutters, a well cleaned driveway (for the winter) and a single car garage. House points out the single car in the garage and notes the lights on and movement back in the kitchen. Whoever resides here, likely is a single individual and doesn’t work a nine to five job, maybe not even working on Mondays at all. Right before they look to suspicious, Wilson takes the map from House’s hands and folds up what is a map of, Montana. Dammit House he thinks, at least try with a Jersey map . . .

Then when he gestures that they should be going, House moves the car into drive when the front door opens. A woman steps out and walks to the mailbox to remove items. She’s wearing a pair of boots and large cardigan. Wilson tries to place where he’s seen her before while House excitedly shouts. “She was staying with a woman! I would have never thought her into women based on her disposition.”

Wilson groans and it then comes to him, she’s the woman who owns Cloud! House pulls the car onto the street and they head back to PPTH trying to hold back his amusement.

Making it clear that Eva is more than likely not a lesbian, Wilson explains that the woman is the owner of Cloud and they have known each other since undergrad. House tries to counter that it would make it even more likely for them to be romantically involved. Based on Matt Jones disappointment at Eva’s use of him as a fuck buddy, Wilson has a pretty good idea that she’s more than successful in the sexual opportunities with men area.

House drops him off awhile later in the parking deck and Wilson hops into his car, heading first to his place to grab several days worth of clothing to bring to his girlfriend’s and sighs at the new box of condoms they had bought now close to empty. It might be time to have what he refers to as ‘the next level sex talk’ with her. . .

He enters the apartment building, checking that she received his text that he was heading over to her place. She replied she was running a little late and to go ahead and feed Keith for her. He settles into her place squeezing more clothing into the tight space of her closest and puts on the kettle. Feeling a little unsettled in her place he turns on her stereo and a very calm electronic album begins, and he thinks about how to broach the topic of safe sex in a long-term monogamous relationship.

A short while later, she opens the door sighing loudly. He makes sure to give her a hug and kiss on the cheek as she seems a little bit better about handling it. They sip the tea while she pulls out some leftovers to reheat a large batch of curry. After eating they relax on the couch and Wilson mentions casually that he’d like to talk about something. She sits up and asks if it is about his parents. He laughs that, no it isn’t about his parents’ surprise visit yesterday.

He smiles and takes a deep breath and starts, “Actually, I wanted to talk about things related to the physical and sexual aspect of our relationship.”

“Oh.” She is surprised and gestures for him to go on.

“You had previously mentioned we should have bedroom free conversations about our sexual expectations. There are two things I’ve been meaning to bring up.” She nods and listens intently.

“I ah, well was wondering if I could expand on my previous fantasy to be more aggressive and say rip your tights off while you keep your clothing on. Specifically, a dress. I know a lot of your clothing is nice so I don’t want to damage anything. Do you know of one you could find that would work for this?”

She rubs her chin in thought, “I think I can, let me think of some options and I’ll get back to you.” Her hands reach out and touch his knees reassuringly. “What was the second thing?”

He ruffles his hair since he thinks the second one will be far more complicated. “It is about how we’ve been practicing safe sex. Obviously, this is of greatest importance to me. But I wanted to talk about taking things to the next level.”

Her brows are completely contorted in confusion. She has no idea where he’s going with this. “What do you mean?”

Clearing his throat he replies, “I’m talking about making the decision to not use condoms. We both don’t have STIs and we are exclusive.” He pauses as her eyes go blank.

“You – what? I dunno how I feel about this?” She seems concerned but lost based on her reply. But that is okay, he’s going to make sure to listen to her.

He looks at her in all earnest, “That’s why I want to talk about this now. And not bring it up at some awkward moment.” He takes a deep breath again before continuing. “You were clear about using protection when we started having sex and that is fine with me. Do you primarily use them to prevent STIs or pregnancy or both?”

She fidgets on the couch cushion, “Both. I’m also on the pill but that isn’t 100% effective.”

Many of his previous partners have used the pill or some form of contraceptive. He’s not proud of his times he’s cheated, but he always used protection for obvious reasons – he is a trained medical professional. But with her reply, it means it drags in a more complicated topic that they haven’t even discussed, pregnancy and kids. Did he just make this more serious by accident?

“I think I may have taken us into deeper waters by accident.” He looks at her feeling at unease due to his haste to discuss his desires.

She pats him on the legs lightly, “Perhaps not. I am interested in you, but it is best you know my intentions now before things get more serious. Which I think they will.” He smiles at her feeling a little better.

“I have no intention of having kids. I have never desired them. Therefore, if you wish to move to unprotected sex, you will have to consider how you can decrease your contribution to that less than one percent due to the pill.”

Wilson blinks at her as it sinks in. She wants him to – to also do his part. It is a fair enough request, but he swallows just thinking about the best solution. 

“You told me you want me to think about this, I will but I have made my intentions clear. If it makes you feel better several of my male friends have had the surgery for their female partners. Yet it is a huge decision, so I think it would be best neither of us rushes this.”

And in that moment, Wilson has been out maneuvered by her in an unexpected way. His Mom was correct in her assessment of her yesterday, but she didn’t realize how different she was than his previous partners and girlfriends. 

“That is a good idea. I think based on what you’ve suggested, it would be best if we continued to use condoms until I can think about this fully.” He thought he’d be disappointed at her reply and the current situation, but a small but impactful surgery is still a big deal, and this is not something he’d do on a whim.

Wilson is not completely happy with this outcome from a raw and carnal place, but they can discuss his next fantasy at least. That is what they then do as the weight of the subject lifts and he pulls her into an embrace as they watch TV, and he focuses on the comfortable feeling on her couch. His hands begin to stray, and he touches her skin under her shirt. She tries her best to pretend it isn’t that much, until he begins to caress her chest and little by little she gives into his skill. When it becomes just too much, she turns to face him, and they kiss slowly. 

When they settle into her bed, he feels content as she gets under the covers next to him and Keith leaps up, curling between them. Yawning he, kisses her goodnight and thinks about how this relationship and all of the twists and turns may be worth it. He thought pushing their sexual intimacy was the next hoop to clear, but he’ll have to shift his focus, moving in with her might be the next step instead. At least he now knows her lease is up in the summer . . . so it would be worth discussing that in a few months. . . .

* * *

At work on Tuesday, you find yourself a little distracted as you recall the conversation you had with Wilson last night. He initiated it wanting to have a mature conversation about trust in each other and a type of sexual intimacy you’ve never even approached in the past.

Somehow you took it in a more serious direction, implying that the only way you’d consider unprotected sex with a monogamous and STI-free partner is for him to get a vasectomy. Swiveling back and forth in your lab chair, you wonder if you just ended your first **_real_** serious adult relationship by accident? Realizing you need to talk to your best friend about this you text him and tell him you need to chat sometime soon; afraid you may have ended your relationship.

Over lunch, you poke at your yogurt thinking about how Wilson seemed at least okay about your comment. Not thrilled but more than willing to still have sex. Furthermore, he fleshed out his one ask, so, you can do some shopping to try to meet his request. Maybe your relationship is fine? Or not? Argh this is so confusing! Why are serious relationships so complicated?

After work, Wilson calls you to make sure you don’t worry about supper. He’s bringing over some of his pre-made meals and he just needs to reheat and plate them out at your place. Interestingly, he seems fine after last night’s conversation. Was it the right thing to say? Unable to contain yourself, you bluntly ask him about it. He’s surprised and smiles sweetly his eyes showing his open honesty that you’ve come to trust.

He puts his fork down and explains that he is okay, and he will think about it deeply. Certainly, there are advantages to unprotected sex in the right context, but he wasn’t opposed to the potential to have a child when he was younger. Now, older and finding himself in a different place emotionally and career-wise he doesn’t see it as much of a possibility. He clarifies it as a desire or requirement, that he isn’t too interested in. Just, he never had a partner make her own feelings so clear. 

You feel much better. You still look forward to talking to your best friend, but you mention that several of your male friends have done this, so it didn’t seem like something that is still a very big deal to a lot of people.

Wilson has a look of increased understanding upon hearing your reply. “That explains so much. Thanks.” He smiles back and returns to eating and you relax, proud that you communicated well, and he understood why you mentioned your hard line. There is certainly going to be tough conversations between the two of you in the future and it may not resolve things in one conversation, but it feels good.

Wilson then changes topics, “Hey, you mentioned over breakfast on Sunday that you cycle. I’m surprised you didn’t mention it before. And the fact that you intend to look for different apartment.”

It makes you wonder if his Dad said something to him after you left. “I didn’t really see the point to talk about a hobby before having the actual items required for it. I figured it would come up once I decided to drive home and bring my bikes back to Princeton. It wasn’t my intention to hide it – if that is something you are worried about.”

He shakes his head while cleaning up his place setting and rolls up his sleeves to wash the dishes. “Oh no, that wasn’t what I meant. I just remember noticing you have a cycling messenger bag; a higher quality one than would have been a random purchase.” He turns on the water and squirts the free and clear dish soap motioning for you to hand him the rest of the dirty dishes and you grab a towel to dry his containers at least.

Feeling again, safe and content with this conversation you just mention that you are considering looking for an apartment in a few months. Once you have your bikes you are interested in determining if you can map out a safe way to cycle to work in the warmer months. Not every day; but enough to offset driving somewhat. You spend the next few minutes explaining that at your last job, you cycled to work most of the year and not only did it make you feel better, but you saved a lot of money and it is one of the greenest options for commuting other than walking. He listens closely. You’d like to get about ten minutes closer by car, it would shave three to four miles off your current time and seven or eight miles would give you about a forty-minute ride one way. Plus, there is a bike trail corridor for at least half the distance based on a slightly newer neighborhood on the other side of the shopping district nearby.

Wilson then asks you a question you have never even seriously thought about, “What type of place would be ideal? I’m sure you realized when you moved here that the vacancy rate is low in the desirable locations.”

“Ideal in what way? Cost? Amenities?” You don’t need some sort of modern apartment complex that is gated or any of that bullshit.

He giggles, “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to tease but you really haven’t thought about real estate have you?” Wilson is immediately comfortable with this concept and it shows through and through.

Choking on your own spit, you cough, “Are you talking about buying a place?”

He nods, goes into the most foreign explanation you have heard in a long time. Good or bad, due to his numerous relationships, marriages and divorces, he is more than aware of the finer points of living in the Princeton area. You want at least a two bedroom, space for your bikes and perhaps an office/guest room. There are very nice apartments in that area, but they are few and far between. A two bedroom in that area is more than likely to be rented to a couple at minimum and young families start out there to get into the school district, something you don’t even think about when selecting a location. He continues to explain that area has a mix of townhouses, mainly for purchase, but due to the vertical nature of their design, have decent sized garages. Furthermore, they are at least two stories and almost always three bedroom. Again, they are targeting professionals who need additional workspace or families.

Briefly, you think he’s done, but there is more! 

Wilson continues to monologue about the living options of the area while putting on the kettle for hot tea. There are lots of older but well-built semi-detached homes with walkable sidewalks and smaller locally owned businesses close by. This option makes your head spin. The townhouse is a step up from apartment living. A semi is almost a real house. Of course, he is excited by this option since you only share one wall with another property and the yard space is better. Plus, you can have a decent backyard. It is then you notice it has become of a dream that Wilson is thinking of – his dream for the future. 

“What about a regular detached home?” You prompt him with the question, and he shakes his head. 

“I don’t think that is a good idea. My last two marriages included houses and the eventual loss of them. It was too easy to avoid each other and it was partly an image and expectation thing.” He looks incredibly sad and hurt as he thinks about it. “I got my current condo partially on a whim with House. It worked out far better than I expected, but I don’t think I’m cut out for loft industrial living in the long term. I miss green space out my window.” He sighs as he sits down in a chair at the table with his tea. You lean into the fridge holding yours, the steam caressing your chin.

“Oh, I didn’t realize that. Maybe that is why your place feels so, sterile. I guess it would be worth my effort to look at townhouses, but a semi-detached is likely beyond my reach financially. I’d need to put in at least five years in my current position before I could move up to a much more senior position.”

Wilson sips his tea. He rubs the back of his neck, thinking if he should say what he’s thinking.

“Well, a single income person couldn’t afford the mortgage on a semi, but two professionals could. Especially, if one sells a trendy condo in a ‘hot’ neighborhood.” His eyes are completely serious.

“You – couldn’t, I mean you can’t propose something like that so soon.” You are shocked.

He gestures to you softly with his right hand, “I would like to point out that last night you made it explicitly clear that if you were to have sex without condoms as a birth control measure, I’d have to get a vasectomy. I’d say we are equal in our serious requests – no, considerations for a shared future.”

In that moment it hits you. This isn’t just your first real, adult relationship, this is a potentially, long-term partner, goes to family events and gatherings, vacations, adopts another cat(s) in the future, grow old together – relationship.

Overwhelmed, you slide down the fridge to sitting on the floor. Wilson looks at you in shock.

“Are you okay?” his voice sounds worried and he’s about to get up. You smile at him and slowly stand. Sitting across from him at your small table you put the mug down and reach your hands out towards his.

“I’m sure you are confused by this, but I just realized something that I’ve thought about in the abstract all my life. I **_never even knew_** I was thinking about it abstractly. That you are truly interested in a long-term relationship. Not for a year or two years, but ten, twenty, hell thirty years.” It feels liberating to say this to him and he squeezes your hands.

His smile is small but one of the most handsome ones he’s given you. “Yes. I am. Both of us have had opposite struggles in our search for this and with very different challenges.” He works his fingers between yours and smiles again. “But, I think if we talk about these things over the next few months we’ll come to a solution, together.”

The next few seconds he looks at you and you feel loved to the core. He then stands up and you get up before him. Opening his arms wide, he pulls you in for a giant hug, and overwhelmed you feel a tear or two in your eyes. Sniffling to hide the emotional evidence, he laughs lightly. “Are you having a moment?”

Burying your face in his warm chest, his silky tie cool against your cheek you stubbornly reply, “Nooo.” Sniffling loudly, you follow up with a terrible witty retort, “I’m just allergic to silk ties . . .”

His hands rub your back comforting you as he laughs from deep in his chest. “Then perhaps I should remove the tie, among other items?” You look up at his playful grin and he reaches up to loosen the knot with his left hand before tossing the tie on the table and kissing you passionately.

The two of you take far longer than necessary to make it to your bedroom, distracting each other trying to undress each other partially. When you finally flop on the bed, Keith makes a berrtt noise and both of you look to see him paused in a mid-lick of his butthole.

Wilson sighs, “Oh Keith, why is your personal timing so awkward?” Of course, Keith mews back him in reply. He gently picks the fluffy feline up and carries him to his favorite spot on the couch before returning to the bedroom and shutting the door. “Now, where were we? Yes, the sexual turn on of property ownership in cohabitation and the trust required to improve the odds to not have children.”

You laugh at his accurate, yet actually un-sexy remark and he crawls over you nibbling at your bare skin. Keeping up the light cheese, he whispers in your ear, “You have no idea the possibilities for dirty things to do on property viewings. Mudrooms, closets under staircases, heated garages.” He bites on your ear, “And we haven’t even gotten into the bedrooms yet.”

Somehow, he encourages you and for the first time ever both of you joke around about the topics for future decisions and it **_fucking_** works. It is the strangest dirty talk you have ever participated in and after both of you are on your backs sweating, you glance over him and break out into a fit of giggles.

* * *

Doctor Eva Forrester enters her modern designed building and enters the elevator to the tenth floor where her practice is located. A practice that she is a main partner in and the source of her financial success but also of her career discontent. The receptionist greets her, wearing all of the trendiest fashions and her hair and make-up is ahead of the national trend meaning it is the norm here in New York. She listens to the sound of her heels as she enters her part of the office, and her personal secretary smiles and greets her as usual.

Secretly, she feels a little sad, JoAnne has been with her for the past ten years, but she’s almost thirty-five. The major partners don’t actively discriminate against their clerical staff. Just with their patients, they expect to present a certain image. To avoid raising suspicion, women like JoAnne are ‘promoted’ to the internal operations on the floor above, playing a more active role in HR, promotions, fundraising, research outreach and partnerships, but they will lose their chance to interact with people on a daily basis. Also, it means Eva will have to hire another secretary only to lose her in the future. Before JoAnne, she went through several okay but not quite right temps.

JoAnne, enters her office exactly five minutes after she has settled into her office. Today JoAnne’s hair is styled naturally, and her previous job was a model for fashion labels. Even though the money was better than she makes here, JoAnne quickly grew tired of being pigeon-holed as a black model in a still white industry. She saved most of her earnings and hired a fiduciary and modeled a year longer than she wanted to earn enough money to pay for her college program and to buy a small loft. The vast amount of her earnings untouched, she transitioned easy to her role that she started here with Eva ten years ago.

“What is on the agenda today?” Eva smiles as JoAnne sits down across the desk from her. She places a tray down with two lattes for them, made by the in-house barista. They silently sip the drinks for a moment. 

“Today, you have a few new patient consults from ten to twelve-thirty. Several are A-listers so their real names won’t be revealed until you meet them. The partners meeting is from four-forty-five until five-twenty. Nurse Cho, will be taking you through your rounds next door (implied meaning the hospital half a block down).”

Eva pulls up her calendar checking that everything is correct, even though she knows it is. That is how well her office runs.

“Thank you, Jo. Excellent organization as usual.” She pulls out her notebook from the top left drawer of her sleek Scandinavian designed desk.

“Anything else Eva?” JoAnne stands up holding her mug and notebook across her chest.

Remembering next Monday is the last reviewer panel, she requests two things, “Yes, there are. First off, get me a line to Doctor James Wilson at Princeton-Plainsboro in the next few minutes.” she glances at the designer wall clock, just after nine. “Secondly, after you connect me to him, call the departmental secretary at Princeton-Plainsboro, Susan Ngo. Make sure she clears his schedule next Monday afternoon. He can’t have Clinic duty that day. Susan will be more than helpful.”

Nodding once curtly, JoAnne, exits the office shutting the door behind her. Eva texts Jennifer about her plan to reserve the back room of Cloud for an end of the clinical panel lunch. For all the panel members including the unexpectedly elusive, James.

She finishes her latte just as her phone rings, JoAnne announces she has Doctor James Wilson on line two. She thanks her again and picks up the call.

“Hello James. How are you?” This is just her way to distract him long enough for Susan to clear his schedule.

“Morning Eva. I’m alright all things considered. Are you calling to follow up about anything? If it is about your performance at PPTH it was excellent. Cuddy can give you the official reviews if you need them.” James is always so proper and courteous. Some of their specialization classmates thought it was an act, but she watched him closely enough to realize that is who he is.

“Oh, no, I already got the hard copy from Cuddy last week. I was curious if you have heard any news of openings or potential openings in the Princeton-Trenton area.” She knows it is a long shot in early January. Most hospital hiring cycles are linked to when individuals graduate various programs almost always in the spring and they plan their hiring around this predictable event.

Wilson makes an excited noise over the phone, despite his best attempt to cover it. “Funny that you mention it. PPTH is going to post a few short-term contract and part-time hires in the near future. I’ll send you the job ad when it posts.”

Eva is surprised at his forwardness; she was expecting news about Princeton General or Trenton. “James, aren’t you potentially risking getting yourself in trouble for telling me about this before it posts?”

He immediately replies, “Oh no, I double checked with HR last week. Since I overlapped on the panel with you, I have an immediate conflict of interest and will take no part in any of the hiring decisions if you were to apply to a position. Additionally, none of the positions are in oncology, further removing me from the decision-making process. However, I cannot tell you the specifics of the positions at this time. You will have to examine them for yourself.”

This is an interesting comment. James listened to their conversation and he thought of something she should consider outside of their specialty. What on earth could she do outside of oncology? She shudders at the thought of being a regular GP. The occasional clinic duty wouldn’t be terrible but not every day.

“Okay, then I’ll look forward to your email then. Well, I have got to get ready for some patient consults. I’ll see you next Monday at the panel wrap-up session.” Eva ends the phone call and heads out to the waiting room. 

“Jo, everything taken care of at Princeton-Plainboro for James?” She looks at her personal assistant/master of her schedule.

“Yes Eva. Susan has changed Doctor Wilson’s schedule as you requested. Anything else?” JoAnne returns to typing as the printer hums in the background.

“No. That will be all for now. Thank you.” She takes her empty mug, and JoAnne’s from her desk and walks to the dirty dish tray in the small breakroom/café where their barista works. 

The rest of her morning is boring as usual. Sooth panicked patient, hold hands, and hand over information to help them prepare for their low-risk treatment plans. Eva then heads down to the basement of the office tower to the high-end shops that cater to the staff of the business of the building. Twenty dollars later, she has the seasonal juice blend, a cheese and meat board and a fruit salad. Walking through the labyrinth of the basement, she goes to her favorite location, a bench between fairy lights wrapped along a rustic garden arc, a small water fountain and low light plants. Exactly fifteen minutes later, she has recycled all of the compostable containers that are processed outside of the city and she returns to her office to grab her bag, coat and meet Cho. They walk over to the hospital where some of her more serious patients are and they do the rounds. The nurse splits her time between the practice location and the hospital, though eighty percent of her time is at the hospital, so Eva doesn’t have to be there.

When she exits the hospital after thanking Cho for her assistance today, she texts JoAnne. By time she has entered the lobby to her part of the practice, a light roast coffee is waiting on her desk with an exactly measured out amount of oatmilk in a tiny ceramic decanter. 

As she drinks her coffee, Eva finishes her patient files, scans them into the system to be saved on the secure private server in additional to the locked paper files. Next, with thirty minutes before the partners meeting, she puts on meditative music as she reads over the meeting notes from the previous meeting in November. The meeting notes for today’s meeting are sitting on her desk in a color-coded folder prepared by JoAnne. Line 4 tugs at her – titled senior clerical staff promotions for the next fiscal year.

The meeting is in the beautifully designed and decorated conference room on the next floor. Everyone will head home from there directly, as various individuals have longer commutes. She uses the bathroom, fixes her hair and freshens up with a quick spritz of perfume. Then with her purse and larger satchel in hand and her coat draped over her arm, she closes her office door and tells JoAnne to have a nice evening as she will head home directly from the meeting. JoAnne tells her to have a good day and she expects to have things done by four-fifty at the latest.

All the partners file into the room and settle into their assigned spots around the oval table. The founder of the practice, Doctor Seth Winters, is getting closer to retirement each year, though his most recent divorce put his timeline back a few years to her annoyance. His executive secretary, Jackie, is a modern-day Joan from the TV show ‘Mad Men’. College educated in the Classics and English literature she is razor sharp and used her smarts and physical ‘advantage’ to become Winters secretary back in the early 80s. She is the only older woman who still is a day-to-day public presence, but Winters rarely accepts patients anymore focusing on their branding and promotion to attract more ‘targeted’ patients, or clients as he likes to call them.

Eva is not intimidated by most women, but she has stayed far away from Jackie. More than one female junior oncologist has left the office in tears, their high earning potential ruined, fleeing out of the tri-state area to escape the reach of Winters [Jackie].

‘Joan’ as Eva refers to her with Jennifer, pours glasses of sparking water for the board and offers fresh macaroons from a patisserie in Tribecca even though it isn’t close or worth the price. Eva picks up two, though her impulse is to decline them. Long ago, she learned a slight of hand trick and would pocket one, later to give to the doorman at her building who would rate the quality of each batch.

The meeting moves quickly with everyone’s commitments as several individuals have networking dinners and public appearances at various charities, art events and the like to keep them visible in the social pages of the Times.

Waters reminds everyone that in addition to the need to promote several staff this summer, that several partners are going to be promoted. Less clients and more socializing to attract all sorts of key people in the area.

He in particular, points out Doctor Singh-Holbrooke, one of their few non-white colleagues and her. Doctor Samantha Singh-Holbrooke checks a lot of desirable boxes, she is seen positively by members of the South Asian community and is married to an investment banker. It is obvious to use her, but Eva is confused by her selection. Doesn’t Winters recall her nickname of the ‘ice queen’ from her days at Penn?

Winters asks what Samantha thinks of this idea. She replies trying too hard to be as excited as possible and highlights her current networking and targeted gala events she has participated in. The rest of the members nod along pleased with her progress.

Next, Winters turns to her. “Eva. What about you? Are you ready to move onto bigger and better things?”

She sips her water and smiles slightly. It is the best she can do in situations like this. “I have been giving a lot of thought to this recently. As you are aware, I’m wrapping up another clinical chemotherapy review panel at our very important pharmaceutical giant in the tri-state area.”

A few other more senior members make short comments that can be summarized as; Eva has done an excellent job making valuable connections to industry and they have gained a few lucrative contracts to the more experimental and expensive treatments. Always good for the bottom line. 

Winters smiles, “Are you thinking of continuing in playing a larger role in growing our relationship with personalized medicine in pharma? It would be viewed very positively considering your weak performance at social events.”

She ignores his negative comment, “Duly noted. Now, many of you got the memo that after Christmas, I returned from my usual Hawaii trip a week early.”

Again, various voices around the table comment that she had taken a last-minute position as some sort of favor owed to a former classmate in Princeton. Followed by the comment that Princeton isn’t as finically great but connecting with the university would be smart.

Taking another drink from her glass she looks at the dusty rose color of her lipstick that slightly transferred to the glass. “That is correct, I did a favor from a very old colleague, who I’ve reconnected with from the review panels. However, I didn’t not disclose the full details at the time due to the timely nature of the event. I was in Princeton, but I worked at Princeton-Plainsboro Teaching Hospital. After reflection, I have decided that I would like to pursue a new career path. To take on a part-time position at Princeton-Plainsboro in the near future while I shrink my practice here in the city. As is my legal right, I will keep my share of the partnership, but decrease my patient load over time to eventually become a more passive member of the practice.”

Waters laughs in absolute shock while the rest of the room is silent. Even Jackie turns to her staring intently at how she missed this bombshell.

Adjusting his posture to look as dominating as possible Waters speaks to her, “This must have been **_some_** ‘old colleague’ to bring this about. Did you fall madly in love with him, that you are willing to leave the city for a **_teaching hospital_**? It must be mind blowing sex.”

Eva’s blood boils in her veins. His horrible comment only furthers her disgust with him and the outdated attitude he uses to create a terrible culture in the practice. It was so obvious that PPTH has much more progressive values and creates an inclusive environment for all employees.

As the rest of the room looks nervously back and forth between their blank expressions, she clears her throat. “I can assure you that my decision was not based on something as silly as a non-existent relationship. This is coming from a personal desire to try something new. Our practice has a transparent path to advancement. I found that most attractive when I started here in ninety-nine. It is time to try something new. In case I find that I have made a terrible decision, I will make sure to write into my updated contract that I will return to a full-time position here and accept the role as the pharma networking lead. Furthermore, I will even make sure that it will be within a full calendar year. If I take longer to come back, you can change my status to a non-practicing board member, and I will accept all of the losses that entails.”

Finished, she finishes her water and dabs the side of her lips. All the eyes in the room are fixed on her and she feels a slight flush under her designer jacket.

The next most senior member, Jane Samuels is the first to speak, “Understood. I’ll get legal and HR on it once you have the part-time contract in hand.” 

With that the meeting quickly comes to an end as a few other minor matters are discussed, voted on and then approved. Even with her shocking revelation, they still wrap up one minute before the proposed ending time. Winters pauses to whisper something to Jackie before she cleans up the now outdated agendas and used glasses and plates. 

Eva lingers as her usual practice to pocket the macaroon and add the meeting notes into her billfold. Tomorrow, she’ll have JoAnne scan them and file them away for her, prepared for the next meeting.

Last to leave, she turns to look out the large window that looks out onto the Manhattan skyline. There are many aspects of this job she won’t miss, but a view like this can’t be beat. She puts on her coat, slings her locally made leather satchel across her shoulders and purse over her left elbow, walks out the door, making sure to turn off the lights as she walks through the fully staffed offices. The oncologists get to head out before six, but she knows most of these employees won’t leave until six or seven depending on what department they work for. One room is dedicated to helping doctors dress and put-on make-up for events in the evening. The thought is too much for her and she sighs.

Pressing the down button for the elevator, she enters the car, half full of professionals all dressed in head-to-toe designer labels. She stares at her Louboutins and wonders if this was the best use of her money? A cute guy winks at her and glances at her shoes. Of course, she isn’t won over by his Prada loafers. Not anymore and when they exit into the polished lobby, she makes sure to ignore any more visual offers from him. 

Between work and her apartment, she enters her local gym. Wednesdays are yoga days, and she swipes her access card to enter, heads to the locker room and opens her full-size locker. Carefully, she hangs up her coat, and changes into light pink and lilac yoga clothing, removes some slippers and her Manduka mat.

The yoga instructor focuses on the low energy of this time of year. The glitzy parties are over and it is a few months to New York fashion week, trips to warmer locations and the shift to positive, radiant energy to restore them and their personal outlook. The class ends with a spritz of single sourced organically grown Hyuganatsu oil from Kyushu. She isn’t even sure what a hyuganatsu is other than it smells like some sort of citrus.

Many of the women in the class chat about various fashion events, their spring break plans as they head to the showers. Alone, Eva rinses off the citrus smell and changes back into her work clothing always making sure to never wash her hair and escape before the herd emerges to chat more.

Finally, just before seven, she enters the lobby of her mid-rise (by Manhattan standards) and hands off this week’s macaroon. Her heels are toed off, and gently placed off to the side of her doormat. Her toes sink into her plush slippers and she heads to her bedroom lofted above the kitchen and bathroom. The bedroom looks towards the floor to ceiling windows that look towards the park. She hangs up the skirt and jacket on her dirty rack where Monday and Tuesday’s suits already hang. Her blouse goes into a hamper and she pulls on her comfy sweats and a lavender sweatshirt. 

In her perfectly designed to waste absolutely no space bathroom she lets her hair down into a loose ponytail with an ugly as determined by ‘Sex & the City’ scrunchie before removing the day’s make-up. Casual and comfortable, she turns on her TV and begins to pull out a meal delivery kit. With her dietician’s guidance, she started using one of the many smaller fresh meal services. With the handy and aesthetically pleasing handout she follows the directions with precision. Before eight she sits down on her pale blue plush sofa and on the table before her places today’s meal of Jamaican jerk salmon, vegetable rice and black beans. A tall glass of lemon seltzer bubbles next to a wine glass filled with Merlot. She watches the news before loading a video streaming service. The emotions of the day fade away as she watches a documentary about historical dress from the time of Jane Austen and she finds the gowns to be beautiful.

At ten, she turns off the TV, turns on the stereo and her bedtime routine starts. Soothing music plays and she cleans up in her kitchen, washes all of the dishes and loads her dishwasher and puts her leftover in the fridge for tomorrow’s dinner. She pre-programs the now full enough to run dishwasher for tomorrow between nine and noon.

Washed up and prepped for bed, she walks back up to her bedroom. Her queen size bed is ready for her return. Placing her watch on the nightstand next to her alarm clock, she slides under the duvet, decorated with a print of puffy clouds in a soft blue sky, purples and pinks mixed in for visual interest. Well, that is what the store clerk told her, she just liked the pattern. 

Pulling down sleeping mask over her eyes, everything goes dark and she lets her mind drift just a little. Her last thought is the hope that Wilson forwards her that position information by Friday. The sooner she has an offer in hand, the sooner she can move on from her current job.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As usual, I hope you enjoyed this chapter. I never thought I'd create real estate dirty talk, but I'm more than certain it has happened. The world is vast and there are many worse kinks! I also anticipate finding a place to share with Wilson will be much more complicated than either he or she thinks!


	35. january continues

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yeah. Stuff happens. Wilson. You. House. Eva.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year! The transition from 2020 to 2021 really won't mean all that much until most people are vaccinated against covid, but people seem to think it matters. Or something.

After the rather intense conversations with Wilson at the beginning of the week, things settle down. Neither of you bring them up, instead going about the more banal events of making supper, relaxing and nothing in particular. Your best friend replies to your text and you schedule a chance to chat Friday evening. That will be the next time that you bring up the concept of potential co-habitation, a topic you know absolutely nothing about and your hard terms for unprotected sex. You still can’t shake the feeling that it could very well end the relationship, but it came up.

Not giving it much thought, you are definitely settling into a nice routine with Wilson even though he is spending a lot of time at your place and it seems like the amount of clothing that has squeezed into your place is slowly reproducing. It is hard to tell with all of the striped dress shirts and neutral-colored suits.

Friday rolls around and Wilson has his predictable evening with House a few blocks away, while you get a chance to chat with your best friend. As usual, pleasantries are exchanged before you bring up the two next level conversation topics: effective male birth control and moving in together. Seeing that your best friend already has done his part to provide birth control for his partner, he doesn’t need much convincing to your point of view. He does state it was relatively early to bring it up, but seeing that Wilson is the one who lead the conversation that way, he doesn’t think you made a mistake. Lying about it would have been worse. Instead, you would have strung him along only to disappoint him at some point later on.

The conversation makes you feel better about things. It doesn’t help that society has always made it more difficult for women in situations like this and you stuck to your terms. As your best friend puts it, “He can’t be upset by you leading him on.” And you agree with that, you were honest about your feelings.

The trickier topic is the potential to move in together. You make sure to explain that you think Wilson was a little hurt that you didn’t tell him about your plans to move, which seems silly to you, but you might see where Wilson can be coming from. Maybe.

You have **_never_** shared your space with another human as an adult. Which in some ways is very unusual – you know work colleagues have had roommates/housemates/significant others while you have lived alone. The idea of sharing a space is terrifying. How do you keep your own space? What if something goes wrong? Purchasing property with someone this fast is reckless.

Thankfully, your friend quietly listens to all of your concerns before weighing in on things. His first major point is that worrying about the worst possible is not a good way to approach it. He knows this from firsthand experience, as you witnessed a fifteen-year relationship he had been in end, where he was the opposite of this situation where he kept thinking it would eventually work out and things would be settled. But you are not in a relationship that started in your early twenties before you knew who you were at your core. The two of you bounce thoughts and feelings back and forth until he recalls that there are some situations where you can rent a property but have the chance to buy it (well put that down payment on it). It isn’t the most common thing, however, it would give you the chance to avoid a messy situation.

The suggestion puts you at ease, and you feel that the next time this comes up, you can at least suggest this. It would be safer and comforting for you to try to rent a place before deciding you can truly live with someone else. The two of you then return to talking about less serious issues like Keith’s penchant for butt licking on video calls and his rabbit’s need to try to chew on things at odd times.

After a quick farewell, you put on the kettle for a nice relaxing cup of tea as you brush Keith. The fluffy beast, purrs as you brush his chin and cheeks, and he lets you know when brushing is over, and it is time for kitty treats and a bit of kibble.

The stereo plays quietly in the background as you read one of your many comics stifling a yawn. Even though it is relatively early, talking with your best friend released a lot of emotions and you head to bed early. Not wanting to alarm Wilson, you leave a note on the kitchen table and turn the kitchen light on.

The sound of the door opening, barely registers and a short time later you feel the bed shift and Wilson slides under the covers.

* * *

This week started out intense for Wilson, and thankfully calmed down. He made it a point to not discuss anything with his girlfriend even though he would more than love to talk and talk and talk about everything in great detail. But he is an expert in delicate situations and this time he wants to make sure he applies this skill to his own life and not just everyone else. Funny how things work like that he muses to himself while between rounds.

He’ll bring this up with House maybe in a week or two once he’s had the time to let it lie fallow and get House’s introverted/anti-social opinion. While eating lunch on Thursday, House lets out a huge belch after a large sip of pop and then informs him that the part-time position in diagnostics will post tomorrow. This is House’s way of telling him that he’s interested in Eva Forrester without mentioning her by name and instead just makes it clear by telling Wilson about the posting. Which, he expects Wilson to forward along to Eva.

After finishing lunch, House tries to escape a few hours in the Clinic, but he is caught by his team. Chase, Foreman and Taub surrounded him in the cafeteria and escort House to his next destination while forcing him to sign off on paperwork so that they can submit their own charts.

Wilson laughs lightly at the sight and House makes a quick ‘save me’ face before he begins to playfully banter with the three juniors who are more competent than most doctors to begin with. He spends the afternoon consulting for patients, checking in with his own department and makes sure to take his girlfriend out for dinner. He’s come to enjoy their Thursday dinner dates whether at someplace fancy or in this case, a local Italian place where the quality of the food vastly outranks the shabby décor.

Friday morning, the board members are notified of all of the new positions and encouraged to send them off to potential hires. He quickly scans the varied list ranging from a new secretary, to accountants and of course the part-time research fellow position in the Department of Diagnostic Medicine. The position is for twenty to twenty-five hours a week, or about three days, schedule to be determined by the supervisor (House). Wilson already finds himself rolling his eyes at the misleading wording, House would never be that organized, but it is likely boiler-plate language.

With a few clicks of his mouse and taps on the keyboard, he has forwarded it to Eva. Following through to the best of his abilities, he calls her office as well, getting her secretary JoAnne. They talk briefly and she makes it clear to him, that she will let Eva know as soon as possible.

As his week comes to a close, Wilson swings by the main office for Oncology. Susan is typing away on her computer, the sound of soft music on in the background. Wilson makes sure to greet her with a smile and she pauses to talk to him for a few minutes. Just as he turns to leave, she calls out to him. “Oh, Doctor Wilson, make sure to double check your schedule for next week. I had to shuffle things around.” He stops and nods to her, and of course makes sure to thank her for the heads up.

As he thinks about take out for supper with House tonight, he settles into his office chair and pulls up next week’s calendar. Nothing at first seems too unusual until he notices that he doesn’t have clinic duty on Monday afternoon. Instead, a two-hour block is labelled as follows ‘end of panel lunch’. Intrigued he clicks on the event to see that there is a group lunch at Cloud, from 12:30-2:30. It seems this was Eva’s work; he has to give it to her, she went to a lot of effort to prevent him from using anything at PPTH as an excuse. 

Later on, he is balancing a brown paper bag full of curry from Bombay as he unlocks House’s apartment door. The roar of monster trucks hits him with force as House makes happy noises on his couch.

“Hey, can you turn that down!” Wilson is almost shouting, and he doesn’t miss this aspect of living with House on and off over the years.

House turns around to see him as he tries to not drop their dinner. “Wilson! Excellent!” House is shouting over the revving of a truck before it is about to drive over cars destined for the junkyard.

Wanting to save his hearing, Wilson rolls his eyes, “I’m not giving you any curry until you turn down the volume. I don’t want to be eating my supper while the rumble of your sound system vibrates my innards.”

House makes his best pout, but his right hand points the remote at the TV and turns down the volume to a tolerable range. “Being responsible is soooo lame Wilson.” Yet, his best friend slowly stands and follows him into the kitchen where he retrieves plates from a cabinet helping Wilson plate their dishes. 

House pulls two beers from the fridge and grunts at Wilson to carry their plates that are filled to the brim with deliciousness. Both men settle down on the couch and Wilson notices that there are two coasters, a pile of napkins and cutlery already on the coffee table. They clank their beers together and take a sip before grabbing a fork to stuff as many calories into their mouths between providing additionally color commentary above din of the trucks rolling and crushing things across the screen.

It feels nice – Wilson realizes this as he laughs at House’s attempt to smother his samosa in the spicy mint chutney, only to have it ooze all over his right hand. House panics, licking the chutney from his hand only to make a groan at how hot it is alone, and Wilson begins to giggle, hiding his grin behind a napkin. Between coughs and sips of beer, House gives Wilson a cold stare “What? You got something to say?” House’s resolve to keep up the asshole attitude begins to crumble as Wilson begins to laugh in earnest. 

Soon enough both men are laughing, and House even admits, he can be a total dumbass when distracted – when he’s **_really_** hungry. Wilson gets up to grab him a glass of water from the kitchen and he laughs when House shouts out that he can see him rolling his eyes, even though his back is turned to House.

When he returns, House eagerly accepts the glass from the back of the couch and uses a few napkins to blow his nose. The conversation then shifts to House’s team and how he’s hoping the next case will land on his desk next week. Somewhere in the mix of all of the work gossip, House slots in a question for Wilson. “What is a good place to go to dinner, say on a weeknight?”

Wilson finishes off his beer and puts the empty bottle back on the coaster. “Well, what type of dinner is this?”

House fidgets and peels back the label on his beer and doesn’t make eye contact with him. “Oh, I guess a casual date. You know – nothing serious – but chill. Yeah.” The sentence sort of fades out before House turns to look at Wilson with honest and clear eyes.

This is the moment where House is going to ask Sal out and he doesn’t want to do something rash and well, typical House. Wilson ruffles his hair and nods to himself. He doesn’t need to put on a smile or try to spin his reply, he can just answer it. Thinking for a few moments, Wilson thinks of all of the low-key dates he’s been on with his girlfriend looking for the best suggestions. 

He ultimately settles on the New Mexican place in the shopping plaza, House’s fav French bistro, and Bamboo Garden. Which he adds, he won’t stalk House if he does go there. House scoffs at the comment and Wilson stands up grabbing their empty beers and non-verbally asks House if he wants another with hand motions.

About a minute later, he’s returned with two more cold ones and they find themselves watching a hockey game, monster trucks now over. It is a large yawn from House, that sets of the ping-pong of yawns between both of them while the Flames are on a power play against the Kings. Wordlessly, they slowly extract themselves from the couch and Wilson tidies up the plates while House grabs the empties. A habit that goes back over a decade, Wilson turns on the tap to rinse off the dishes before loading the dishwasher and House helps out while prepping a heating pad for his leg and takes a few ibuprofen.

Drying his hands off with a tea towel, Wilson nods to House before he tells him he’ll see him on Monday. Halfway out the door after their exchange of “Night House. – Night Wilson.” House speaks one last time. “Hey Wilson.” House’s voice is soft, and Wilson stands in the door waiting for House to continue.

“Yeah?” Wilson finds himself making his most supportive ‘I’m listening face’ on autopilot.

House sways into his cane in the entryway, looking guiltily at the floor, “Thanks - for the suggestions.”

In this quiet awkward moment, Wilson feels overwhelmed with emotion, though it doesn’t come across his face nor through his body language. Instead, he keeps it cool not wanting to get emotional and make his best friend feel more uncomfortable.

A curt nod and a simple, “No problem.” are all he gives to House. House nods back and turns to head down the hallway and Wilson closes the door behind him, the sound of the lock clicking loudly.

The drive to his girlfriend’s place is brief, only moving his car a few blocks. Feeling content, he thinks to himself how happy he is with House’s rehab and addiction recovery. Early on, he was afraid it would change House in such a way that his best friend would drift away from him. That has not been the case. Instead, Wilson has noticed that the quality of their time together seems better. Both of them still get to take the living piss out of others and make incredibly inappropriate remarks, but he doesn’t have to worry about House trying to hurt him or others when upset.

As he puts the key into the apartment door, he’s surprised to be greeted by darkness, the lone light on is over the stove. Quietly, he takes off his shoes and coat and notices the note on the kitchen table. 

**_Couldn’t keep my eyes open earlier when reading. Left the light on for you. Farmer’s Market tomorrow? My alarm is set for 7:30._ **

Wilson smiles and uses his best stealth mode to get ready for bed. Keith silently watches him as he washes up and changes into his pajamas before sliding into bed with her. He glances at her, slow breathing and a lack of any response, most certain evidence of her being out cold. Wilson was sort of hoping for more activity when he got back from House’s place, but he feels the weight of the emotional exchange between him and House and he sighs realizing he’d likely have fallen asleep during sex. Tomorrow morning, he thinks before he drops off into slumber.

* * *

Keith rudely wakes you up with a paw to the nostrils. Why is he choosing to play dirty? Groaning and mumbling to the feline, you get up, dump kibble in the bowl and return to bed. It is then that you notice that Wilson is still in a deep sleep, his face partly buried into the pillow and there is a fair amount of drool. It seems both of you were exhausted last night, as you barely remember hearing him return or enter the bed.

Carefully, you move closer to him and you watch him as he sleeps soundly. It doesn’t quite make sense to you, but he seems more relieved and relaxed. Not like you have any way to measure that, but it seems right. 

Wilson then rolls over, his back facing you, wrinkled light grey t-shirt and all. Before even thinking about what you are doing, you wrap yourself around his exposed back and nuzzle your face into his neck, inhaling his musky smell. A grunt is followed by proto-words and he finally settles on a content hum when you hug him. 

Sometime later, the two of you are fully awake as the sound of your alarm fills the room. Wilson’s limbs are splayed all over you, his slowing heartbeat and breath are felt on your chest. He moves so that he can plant a kiss on your cheek before he pulls up and away. “You wanted to go to the Farmer’s Market, right?”

You reply that you do, and he gets up to head to the bathroom. Words aren’t necessary as you know he’s going to begin his morning routine. This leaves you a few lazy minutes in bed alone to stretch and listen to the radio program. Nature beckons and you enter the bathroom as he showers, making sure to warn him of a toilet flush. He makes a bit of a yelp, but then shouts out a ‘thanks’ for the warning at least.

You put on the kettle to make some coffee, and both of you are dressed for comfortable winter times, sweaters, dark pants and wool socks. Of course, Wilson is wearing one of the new pairs of jeans and you can’t help but touch them. He makes a witty remark about how your hands have ‘suddenly’ landed on his butt. You have no choice but to retort back that they seem magnetically pull your hands to them. The cheesy banter continues as you drive to the indoor Farmer’s Market, making sure to start with some baked goods.

The weekend seems to elongate into one long event of banal errands. Cooking lunches, making dinner together, reading books on the couch, loads of laundry and all those sorts of things. Sunday evening, Wilson tells you about his schedule being changed for the post panel review lunch. He asks you what you think of the extent that Eva went to so that he could attend the event.

You recall that she has no sort of romantic nor sexual interest in Wilson. Perhaps, she honestly wants to connect with him professionally. It would be a good chance to network with colleagues, and you tell him that he seems like a natural at that, so it isn’t something that intimidates him.

Wilson snuggles up to you on the couch, his head even with your shoulders, pulling the blanket over both of you. He thinks you may be right; it is just that he’s curious if she is going to apply for the position at work. You listen to him as he talks about her performance review and how she would be a good addition to House’s team if she can work with his best friend who is an acquired taste.

While brushing your teeth, Wilson asks if he can drive you to work tomorrow. He’s got the final review panel and with his schedule cleared for the afternoon, picking you up wouldn’t be much of an issue. He’s already doing his puppy dog eyes, so you give into his request. Delighted he bounces out of the bathroom and is waiting for you in bed. And by waiting in bed, he pounces on you as soon as you settle under the blankets. A part of you would have preferred to just go to bed, but his energy is infectious, and you can’t help but to go with the flow. As things calm down, you notice he makes sure to settle into bed and it seems he’s actively trying to speed your bedtime along. He kisses you goodnight and turns the side lamp off. Keith’s arrival is announced by a beerrrt followed by the light footsteps of paws and then his body pushing up into your legs.

* * *

Monday morning, Wilson wakes up well rested and excited and bittersweet about the end of his term as a clinical trial reviewer. He puts on his pink and cream dress shirt, maroon and gold tie, with of course, the maroon sweater vest and one of his grey suits. The outfit is well worn, but it makes him happy and he feels it best to reflect his preferred color palette by this point.

His girlfriend is less energetic, but he’s becoming used to her minimal mornings, always in awe of how efficient she is, wasting no time nor effort. She’s wearing black and white plaid dress pants and black v-neck sweater and there is a slight pop of color from a burgundy tank top just peeking through the sweater at the base of the plunging neckline. They listen to NPR on the drive over to her large work campus and he makes sure to give her a hug and kiss before heading their separate ways from the large lobby.

As one of the report writers, he has an earlier start time with a few other panel members. Finishing touches are wrapped up as the rest of the panelists trickle in and the company rep leads them through final points. In the last hour, they spend the time signing off on legally important paperwork, are firmly reminded that the results are not to be discussed until the FDA approves (or not) the drug for widespread use.

The company invites everyone for a quick social coffee break as the whole event comes to a close. Eva makes her way over to Wilson and she asks him if he’ll be joining them for lunch at Cloud. Raising an eyebrow up, he slyly replies that he will be joining them. As it seems his schedule rearranged itself in such a way that he can’t refuse.

Keeping a straight face, the elegantly put together colleague, clears her throat. “Well, that is certainly serendipitous. I was worried you wouldn’t be able to make it today.”

Matt Jones then pops over and gets Eva’s attention with a quick tap to the shoulder. “Hey, the rest of the group is more than ready to head out. You emailed everyone the directions to Cloud correct?”

Confidently, she replies to her former fling, “Yes. I had JoAnne send out the information last week and she even resent the directions out this morning for those who can’t be bothered to look at email more than a day old.” 

Relieved, Jones nods to her and curtly greets Wilson before the panel begins to pack up their confidential items and retrieve their personal effects.

“I’ll see you there.” Wilson speaks to Eva before he turns to head off.

As Wilson drives to Cloud, he realizes that it is a Monday, when the place would normally be closed. When he arrives the main doors indeed show a CLOSED sign hanging in the glass windows, but there is a note instructing the oncologists to enter through the side door with a matching arrow pointing to the alley between the next low rise brick building. The alley entry is the staff entrance and after a few quick twists and turns, he finds himself in a small-ish back room. Coats, briefcases and purses are off to the side in a messy pile and he observes that most of the doctors are milling about. Pitchers of water are on the small tables with matching glasses and the smell of a hot lunch drifts into the room. Wilson places his items down and joins a group of his colleagues and they discuss their goals for the new year. Most of them focus on advancing their professional prospects and a few subtly ask if anyone is aware of open positions.

The chatter is quieted when Eva, gently taps a knife against her water glass. Her hair is tied back in a high bun and her body language commands everyone’s attention. “Thank you. I’m glad you were able to make it to this informal lunch today. Please enjoy this time to connect with your colleagues old and new. Furthermore, please thank the staff of Cloud. My good friend Jennifer, was able to open this room for us and adjust her schedule to accommodate us.”

She looks carefully around the room, “Now, that I’ve said all I have needed to, let me allow Jenn to explain what your options are.”

With a crisp movement of her arm, Jennifer walks into the room, dressed stylishly yet casual. Even though he was already correct on identifying her with House last week, seeing her again only confirms that Eva was staying with her friend while he was in Montreal.

The restaurateur then addresses the diverse group of doctors. “Hello everyone. As Eva said, I am good friends with her, and I would like you to welcome you to Cloud. We’ve created a special lunch menu for you with local and sustainable ingredients. For those have special dietary needs we have vegan and vegetarian options. Before, the waitstaff take your orders, please take a seat and I’ll go over the options.”

The small cliques settle down at the tables, and she then introduces the various options, soups from lentil to chicken noodle, various breads, steamed vegetables, and simple entrees of curry or meatloaf. Wilson and his table give their orders to the waiter he doesn’t recognize, deciding on the vegetarian set.

Jennifer floats around the room chatting with the tables as they eat. When she sits down at Wilson’s table, he can’t help but ask her and thank her for working on a Monday, since they usually don’t work then. She cocks her head to the side in thought, “You are correct. We usually aren’t open now, but this time of the year is slow for us. Money is tight after Christmas and all those special events won’t pick up until Valentine’s day. I made sure to check with my people if they would want to work this shift and having a known large group is always comforting when it comes to logistics.”

Wilson smiles as he understands that it is seen as unusual but accepted as a solid workday and payday by extension. Using his soft skills, he asks her about how long she’s known Eva, he recalls when he briefly met her previously, but he wonders if there is more to it. Jennifer elaborates that she met Eva in the first week of undergrad in the dorm. They moved into an apartment in their sophomore year; she was a hospitality and restaurant management major and Eva was in biology; her eyes set on medical school. Before she says anything else, Eva slides in behind her and Jennifer moves to talk to more tables.

Losing his chance to learn anything useful, Wilson shows a tight smile towards Eva. 

“James. What do you think of this?” Eva coolly looks at him and he channels his polite side.

“It is nice. Food is delicious as expected. I take it you and Jennifer had this planned out for some time?”

Her eyes narrow just slightly, “Yes and no. We had the date and time sorted out before Christmas. The menu was thrown together last week.” She folder her hands in her lap and chats with others at the table.

Wilson leans back in his chair his right arm hanging off the edge and watches the big picture. At least two pairs of oncologists are showing body language of being more than just professional friends or colleagues. In a corner table, Jones stares into his cup of post-meal coffee, looking lost before a cute woman he didn’t know from the group asks if she can sit down with him. From afar Jones appears as annoying as usual, but he keeps glancing at Eva, now at Wilson’s table. He’s shocked that he finds himself feeling for Jones. It seems he may have been genuinely interested in Eva . . . maybe poor timing on his part since Eva is looking to leave Manhattan part-time.

Even though the lunch menu was simple and made for a large group of people, it was more than filling and Wilson feels sleepy as he heads to use the bathroom. Jennifer bumps into him in the hallway, “Oh, excuse me.” She then recognizes him, “I forgot to mention it earlier, Eva was wondering if you can stick around a bit later. She has some questions for you.”

Now understanding fully why Eva made sure Susan cleared his schedule he nods and thanks her. Full of delicious food, the group of oncologists slowly head out having to return to their homes from Philly to New York and surrounding areas. Wilson makes sure to pay his check and tips the waitstaff well, having shifted their schedules.

Jennifer thanks everyone as they head out and once the last panelist has left, Eva emerges from hiding somewhere to join Wilson at a small table.

“Can we get a pot of coffee Jenn?” Eva leans back and her best friend laughs and walks to the kitchen. A few minutes later, they have their own carafe of freshly brewed coffee, a container of oatmilk and a few cookies.

Wilson pours the coffee for them and looks at her, waiting for her to begin.

“Thanks for staying to talk to me James. I appreciate it.” She stirs the oatmilk into her coffee with precision before taking a sip.

Wilson slurps his coffee, noting it does taste quite good. “No problem. I’m assuming this is about the position in Diagnostics?”

Readjusting the spoon on her saucer, Eva pauses before looking up at him, “Yes. I am interested in the position, but I am concerned about House. He looks like he can be – hard – to work with. I don’t doubt his skill or how it would be a welcome challenge. I can’t work for a misogynistic ass again.”

He’s a little surprised by her comment, not at the concern if House is an ass or not, it is the implied statement that she has worked for someone like that before. Clearing his throat, he pauses about how to reply. “House can be an ass. He is not a misogynistic jerk though; he respects Cuddy as a supervisor, and he has worked well with female fellows. House is more concerned if you are smart enough to keep up with him, and if you are true to yourself and you stick to your opinions.”

Wilson sips his coffee and looks at her as she pauses waiting for him to continue.

“House is a brilliant diagnostician. And I’m not saying this just because he’s my best friend, statistically, he has one of the highest success rates for cases in the States. If anything, he’s gotten better after rehab.”

A slight gasp doesn’t escape his attention from her. Swallowing to regain her composure she drinks some more coffee to wet her mouth. “Rehab? For what?”

“Opiate addiction. He entered rehab last year and has been recovering since then.” Wilson looks at his hands around his coffee cup, reflecting the sober expression of himself back. It still seems almost uncomfortable talking to people who don’t know about House’s struggles.

“I didn’t know. It must have been difficult to have a close friend suffer from an addiction like that.” Her voice is soft and for the first time since he saw her this morning at the panel, there is a softness to her expression she keeps hidden.

Running his hand through his hair, he sighs and nods to her. “It was painful. I was even the person who drove him to the rehab facility. I have never felt so low as I did when I dropped him off. I felt like I had failed him.” Shaking it off, he continues, “But, things are much better. He’s sober, and even learning new habits to avoid using again. I’m happy and it gives me hope that things will only improve.”

Across the table Eva listens intently. “I see. Is this one of the reasons you would recommend I apply for the position?”

Wilson replies that it is and that she also has the right type of professional attitude to work with House. He predicts, she’ll hear some shit about wearing designer clothing, but since she is one of the calmest people he’s ever met, she’ll be a great addition to the team.

Eva tops up her cup of coffee and offers more to Wilson he declines noticing it is after four and he’ll never get to sleep with more caffeine. 

After drinking more of her coffee, she readjusts her perfectly styled hair. It seems she has something important to tell Wilson.

Over the next half hour, she explains how she started out in her current practice, the environment, ‘Joan’ as Winters right hand woman, the ageism towards secretaries, her perfect looking wardrobe and lonely evenings in her loft alone. It finally ends with her describing the last board meeting and her intention to apply to a few of the positions at PPTH.

Wilson stares back in shock. The undercurrent of unhappiness and discontent at her current position went much deeper than he could have even guessed. His reply sounds weak and empty, even though he believes the much more progressive environment at Princeton-Plainsboro would be a great improvement for her. She is a much more observant individual than he gave her credit for and he feels a little guilty. He always saw her cold nature and mannerisms as indicative of someone who lacked finesse in social situations. 

Now, he sees it is partly true, she is in part like that, but it also served as a survival mechanism in her toxic and aggressive work environment. He wonders how many times she told herself to keep enduring for never ending career goals; owning her own condo; being able to wear a full designer wardrobe; attend a certain gym . . . these are all concepts Wilson gave up long ago due to his own weaknesses. . . revolving around pleasing women, marriage and then running away from conflict. Feeling the need for a break from the weight of her confession, he excuses himself to use the bathroom. 

Walking to the bathroom he finds the staff sitting at one of the other tables eating a late lunch of the leftovers. Jennifer and her employees are laughing as they joke around. He then glances back to see Eva, alone at the table, a fog around her indicating her need to do something to clear it up.

Feeling bold on his return, he reiterates that it sounds like her current position is a difficult one. The conversation then turns back towards him and more questions about what it is like to be at Princeton-Plainsboro under normal circumstances. Wilson does his best to explain all of the quirks, the hiccups and annoyances of working at a much more plebeian hospital.

“How does it work with a relationship? You seem to have a lot of responsibilities.” Eva pushes her empty cup off to the side and interlaces her fingers, elbows on the table.

The question catches him by surprise, he didn’t expect this from her, but he recalls the sad longing looks from Jones and thinks that she may be looking for a better balance outside of work. “Well. House’s team has a more variable schedule. When they don’t have cases, they have a light workload. Clinic duty, paperwork, time to catch up on literature, play medical term hangman, whatever. But if you have a case, good luck on having anything to do but work, eat and occasionally sleep and deal with the many moods of House.”

She nods, “Okay. That is fine, but what about you? Howe do you balance things?”

At a loss for words, he momentarily pauses, “Well. I don’t know if I’m the best person to answer this. Two of my marriages ended as a result of me being at work or using work as an excuse.” He shrugs his shoulders and stares at the table. “I guess having a sober House and a girlfriend who is less ‘needy’ seems to really help.”

“That’s all I was looking for. Thanks for being honest James.” She smiles just slightly at him and stands up, smoothing out her suit jacket and matching pants. Her hand is offered across the table towards him and he stands up accepting it.

“Uh, I’m glad I could help.” Wilson is taken aback but the abrupt change but rolls with it quickly. “Good luck with your application. HR decided on going for a full thirty day period to collect resumes, though I know that they will make the first short list in the first two weeks.” He smiles reassuringly at her; it was the last hint he could tell her without doing anything questionable.

Wilson looks at his watch, it is just after four-thirty! Where has his afternoon gone? He texts his girlfriend to ask her what time she’d like him to pick her up. A fast reply tells him to arrive around a quarter after five – she needs to wrap up an experiment

He sighs in relief and then thanks Eva, Jennifer and the staff for things and he picks up his lone coat and briefcase on his way out. NPR is reporting on a filler story about a local science fair and he recognizes a few of the kids as being children of PPTH doctors and nurses. Based on the interviews with the students it is clear that their parents helped them out with highly technical experiments and attending more events on the weekend.

He quickly thinks about how much time the parents must be spending with their kids in addition to the long and intense hours some of them work and he shudders. The concept of children always seemed reasonable enough to him, but he never thought of the additional effort of overachieving professional’s kids. And Cuddy, she adopted Rachel as a single parent, and it makes him panic thinking about it. Cats are a lot easier to take care of – they don’t go to school, take classes and participate in extra-curriculars. Nor do they require university tuition. . .

He parks and texts her of his location in the parking lot. A few minutes later the passenger side door opens, and she leans into give him a kiss on the cheek. “Sooo, how was your last day of being a reviewer and the fancy lunch?”

She listens to his retelling of events, asking for small points of clarification here and there. It feels nice to tell her about his day. Sure, he’ll tell House the points he can legally pass along, but most of the personal details are simply inappropriate to repeat. That is for Eva to disclose if she decides to.

By time they are finished with supper, Wilson is lounging on her couch the two of them under the blanket and Keith on top. It feels warm and fuzzy; Wilson can’t believe how comfortable it is as he looks down at her head on his chest. This is good and he may need to make bigger decisions than ever with her, but he thinks it may be worth it.

He’s pulled out of his thoughts as she moves so that she’s on top of him, her fingers sneaking between his dress shirt and skin. The cold fingertips tickle him, and he feels how her body slowly moves against his. “Hey.” Her nose is almost touching his as she looks into his eyes.

He replies with a “Hey.” And they move in for a kiss and his hands settle on her bum pushing her towards him. This is definitely something worth working for . . .

* * *

After Wilson headed out on Friday to go to his girlfriend’s place, House yawned to himself as he prepared for bed and the yoga class tomorrow morning. He got a list of low-key places to take Sal for a dinner date – non-date sort of thing.

The next morning, he lay on his yoga mat after the class staring blankly at the ceiling. Summer looks down at him, puzzled. “Greg. You can get up now. The rest of the people who annoy you are gone.”

House abruptly sits up and rubs his longer hair. “Oh. Sorry. I was thinking about something. You know, what I do.”

The yoga instructor adjusts some of the blocks in a corner as she unplugs her iphone. “Sure. So, what is it you are thinking about?”

Standing up slowly, he looks at her hesitant to elaborate. What does he have to lose by asking her about the various places to take Sal? Wilson is the one who gave him the suggestions, so his best friend can’t tease or mock him about them. His team aren’t dumb, they will figure out why he’s asking. Cuddy will never let him live down going for advice again. Not after the Cameron shirt color selection fiasco from what seems like ages ago.

Quietly, he asks Summer if she were invited on a low-key date with someone which of the following places would she like to go to the most? Without a trace of judgement, Summer replies that she’d like the French place first, it has a very casual atmosphere and has good food.

Rolled up mat in hand, House grunts a gruff ‘thanks’ to her. 

Summer shuts the studio door behind them as she settles into the small lobby to wait until the next class starts in about half an hour.

House shivers at the cold air outside and his car putters alone the empty winter streets awash in purple tones.

As he makes lunch, he calls Sal, on her way to DC for a gig this evening. The two of them talk about music, the weather and he eventually asks her if she’d like to go out for dinner. Quickly adding it wouldn’t be something intense, just a low-key, relaxed dinner.

House almost trips over his words and she thankfully doesn’t make any sort of retort or insult back. After what seems like a painfully long pause, she replies that she’ll be able to join him next week, either Wednesday or Thursday, she’s off to New York Friday through Sunday for a studio session for a good friend’s album.

Eagerly, House gives her the information for the location of the French bistro, and he tells her that he will text her once he confirms the reservation for Wednesday or Thursday.

The rest of the weekend is relaxing for him until Sunday evening; the ER just admitted a patient with confusing vital signs. House rushes over dragging Chase in as well. The two of them come up with a short-term treatment plan, and Chase signs up to use the MRI tomorrow morning once the rest of the team are in the office.

Monday he patiently waits for Wilson to appear for lunch after finishing up on the panel. When Wilson doesn’t enter his office at twelve forty-five, he quickly walks over to find an empty office. “Wilson!” he shouts into the empty space and is about to give him a call on his cell when he realizes the departmental secretary would know his schedule.

With his very best behavior, he approaches, the friendly and seasonally aligned woman. She quickly informs him that Doctor Wilson is out for lunch with the other reviewers and doesn’t have any commitments until tomorrow morning after nine. He sighs and turns to head to the café alone. This is very unlike Wilson, he always made it a point to be back in time for lunch with him.

“Ah, um. Is there any reason why Wilson was scheduled to attend this lunch?” House does his best to look like a sad puppy and the secretary who he can’t be bothered to remember her name looks at him for a moment. She adjusts her cat eyeglasses, “Doctor House, Doctor Wilson’s colleagues requested he be able to attend for networking.”

House bows his head, “Thanks.” With that he knows it wasn’t a plural ‘colleagues’ who wanted Wilson to attend. It was Forrester. Clever indeed he thought to himself. Sadly, he won’t get the updated gossip until lunch tomorrow, but he’ll be sure to interrogate Wilson about whatever information she confesses to Wilson and his ever-open ears (and other parts) . . . As soon as that final thought crosses his mind, he feels a little bad. He actually likes Wilson’s girlfriend, she’s not boring and she is good at sharing Wilson with him. It is like having Wilson when his marriages were failing but he’s happy because he’s getting laid all the time.

Right before taking off for the evening, Taub sprints into his office; he had been talking with the patient’s extended family and determined that she had hidden some cosmetic surgery when admitted, hiding a genetic marker for a rare liver disease. 

House tells Taub to confirm for the rare mutation with a PCR to genotype her and he’ll see him in the morning. Bounding off in excitement, Taub tells the rest of the team what he’s doing, and they slink off to decide who pulls the late shift of monitoring the patient and her failing liver.

At exactly 11:58 AM Tuesday, House explodes into Wilson’s office where he is signing off on patient treatment plans. Not even looking up from his pile, Wilson greets him, “House. I see you are ready for lunch.”

Poking his best friend in the shoulder with the foot of his cane, he nudges him along with matching whining. He has to maximize the Wilson guilt process for skipping lunch yesterday. Wilson is quite forthcoming. He hadn’t even realized that his schedule had been changed without his awareness until Susan told him. 

In an example of peak Wilson-ness; his best friend tells him about all the other oncologists, how the lunch was, meeting Jennifer again (reminding him that she was definitely the woman they saw at the house) and that Forrester is in the right place for a change to her career.

The vast majority of this information is useless to House, he wants the details about why Eva is throwing away a clutch job. Wilson looks sadly across the booth at House before apologizing that he can’t disclose any more information about her situation. It would be a breach of her trust, unprofessional and against HR with House as the chair of the hiring committee.

Annoyed, House flicks a fry at Wilson, hitting him square on the nose. Of course, his best friend makes an overly dramatic scandalized yelp before he blushes as the nearest tables look at the odd couple of PPTH. House turns around and glowers at the bystanders, “Hey. I just threw a fry at Wilson. Piss off. Go save some lives or something.”

“That wasn’t necessary House.” Wilson looks at him but begins to smirk, “but it was very effective at getting people to stop staring.” Wilson then reaches out with his hand and grabs a handful of fries from House’s plate. The younger man’s ‘thanks’ is mixed with a mouthful of fried potato products and he stands up to head off to check in with his patients.

House laughs in defeat and finishes his fountain drink with a loud wet slurp followed by an even louder burp. He then arranges all the items on his tray for ease returning it one handed.

* * *

While eating supper on Tuesday, Wilson is telling you about House’s usual antics and he certainly must be embellishing it a little. Wilson assures you that he is not and that he indeed did get hit in the face with a French fry. You ask him how he responded, and he stated he collected his fry tax before making a quick getaway. 

The two of you laugh and Wilson asks you about a getaway of your own. You are surprised since both of you have busy, but not overwhelming schedules for the next month or so. He’ll be on call more frequently until Liu is back from mat leave in the late spring.

He looks bashful as he ruffles his soft flowing hair and his eyes sparkle. “I have a good idea that Valentine’s day isn’t an important thing for you. Plus, it is on a Thursday so there is a good chance I may be on call.” He smiles at you across the table, his fingers fiddling with his napkin.

“Okay . . . are you suggesting we do something ‘sort-of’ for Valentine’s day?” You try to toe out to see if you understand what he’s leading you to.

Nodding and ruffling his hair a little more he smiles at you, “Yeah. Think about it, we can have a special date and it wouldn’t even be overpriced or require epic advance reservations.”

It sounds like a good idea – non-Valentine’s day date – and even though cost wouldn’t be a major issue with you, the idea of being taken advantage of for a day like that makes you feel better.

“I’m listening. What do you have in mind?” You place your chin in your hands, elbows forward on your small table, slightly hitting your empty plate.

Beaming, Wilson can’t stop smiling back, “Let’s go to the city on that Saturday! We can get up early, take the train, do whatever we want, have a nice dinner and then spend the night in a hotel. Keith will survive twenty-four hours alone.”

It sounds charming and at the mention of Keith’s name, a mew comes from under the table before Keith walks out to stare at Wilson.

You look into Keith’s adorable face and back to Wilson’s also adorable face. “I guess we could do that, I mean seeing it is not actual Valentine’s day.”

Wilson smiles back excited. “Yes! Don’t worry, we’ll have a great time.”

The rest of the evening, he asks you about things you would be interested in and he begins to come up with a list. He’ll ask Eva for dinner suggestions and as you wash the dishes, he can’t help but to wrap himself around you. He whispers that he wouldn’t mind if you tied him up tonight and it goes straight to your crotch. 

You make sure that there is ample time before going to bed to follow through on his offer. Pleased with things, you later fall into bed and he snuggles up with you, now fully clothed. He mutters a very sleepy “I love you.” into your back and for the first time it seems okay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been thinking of the lentil soup made by a local place. It is sooo good and the last time I went to get take out from them, they didn't have it and it made me sad.
> 
> In reality, I had a friend who had a 17 year relationship end. The sign of it was when he showed up to my office a day early for our scheduled lunch. 
> 
> Oatmilk has totally become my jam. Good stuff!


	36. House schedules a date and things roll along

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And the story continues!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As usual, I had more I wanted to fit in this chapter but it was getting long so I had to cut it off. Enjoy the banal events that happen around PPTH.

Wilson slides into the midweek routine of life at PPTH and wonders what type of snack to bring to House’s poker night, since his best friend has been oddly silent on any ‘suggestions’. Pretzels are always appreciated but he wonders if those fancy vegetable chips that have been taking up more grocery shelf space may be alright. He’ll just ask House during lunch.

Later with Tupperware filled with leftovers in hand, he goes to House’s office to stroll down to the café. He’s instead met with an empty office that looks like a tornado tore through it; journal articles are strewn about with opened medical reference guides. Puzzled, he looks around and just as he enters the hallway, Chase almost collides with him entering the office.

“Oh shit! Sorry, Wilson. Patient is crashing and House is attending with the rest of the team. Just poppin’ in to grab a reference text.” Chase brushes past him and grabs a book and sprints back down the hallway.

Well, that would explain why House isn’t around for lunch and perhaps why there has been no reminder about tonight. Wilson shrugs and puts one container in the small fridge that the fellows have tucked away in a corner and leaves a note for House. It really is the least he could do. The rest of the day passes, and he does not see House nor anyone on his team for that matter. It must be a difficult case. If this were a few years ago, Wilson would have drifted down to the ICU to monitor House watching his patient of the moment, but the compulsion to babysit House isn’t as strong as it once was. So, he packs up his items into his briefcase and he heads home. Without poker tonight, he feels a little sad about sitting around in his condo alone. But he’s smart enough to respect his girlfriend’s plans and reminds himself that he’ll see her tomorrow for dinner and then spend the night at her place.

As Wilson makes a quick stir fry, his phone rings, pulling him back into the present. Danny is calling and he isn’t even sure this is real. The sound of his brother’s voice on the phone is odd, and Wilson finds himself welcoming it. It allows him to chat with Danny while cooking and the brothers continue to slowly reconnect. Certainly, it will take more than one phone call on a Wednesday night; it is a step in the direction Wilson would like things to go and he feels happy.

Afterwards, he puts on the local independent radio station on in the background as he washes the dishes and organizes things for the next morning. 

* * *

At 3:47 am in the early hours of a cold Thursday morning, House finds himself silent in the ICU with the rest of his team. He rubs his tried eyes with his arm, nitrile gloves still on his hands in scrubs before looking at the clock one more time. Still three-forty-seven. Clearing his throat, he speaks, “Time of death, 3:47 AM.”

House turns away from the bed and the rest of the team turn off the beeping blinking monitors. He stares at his tennis shoes peeking out from his loose scrub pants to focus on the white linoleum tile floor. With disappointment, he unpeels his gloves and opens the wastebasket lid with a strong step from his left foot. 

In complete silence, Thirteen, Taub, Foreman and Chase shuffle out of the room. Chase holds the door open for him, the younger man’s gaze telling him to exit. Grabbing his cane, which had been carelessly tossed to the side as the patient crashed, he grunts to the Australian as he leaves the room and the lingering weight of death.

All of them make their way to the locker rooms wordlessly as they all remove their scrubs and shower to wash away the sweat, stench and scent of hopelessness. When he finally is out of the shower and dressed in clothing from Tuesday (he thinks), Chase is seated outside waiting for him. 

“Hey. Let me give you a ride home.” Chase’s voice tells him this isn’t as much of a request as it is more of an order. House sighs loudly, but gestures for him to lead on. In no time, he’s exiting Chase’s vehicle and walks into his building completely spent.

This was the first patient he’d lost in a long time. Since before rehab. He can’t believe he couldn’t solve this one, it had seemed so simple at first. House thinks about how great it would feel to numb the pain and float away in blissful ignorance . . . . he opens his medicine cabinet to find only legal and non-addictive painkillers. It sucks so much to lose. It hurts. It **_fucking_** hurts.

Barely awake, he takes ibuprofen, and changes into pajama pants and crawls into bed.

House wakes up a few hours later to the soft glow of his Sunbeam clock and turns it off. He remembers what happened last night and groans but instead of wanting to drown it out, he begins to reflect on things. He and his team did everything they could. They followed the evidence, they created the right treatment plan, but they still lost the patient.

Sleep overcomes him as he relaxes through his reflection of events and the next time, he wakes it is just before noon and his phone is ringing. Only one person would call him in a time like this Wilson. Not looking at it closely he picks up and begins to give Wilson shit.

“I’m fine Mom! I know I overslept but I’ll be in work and I didn’t do any drugs.” He yawns and waits for Wilson’s relived mother hen reply.

“Wow, I didn’t realize you were into that sort of thing. I was just calling to confirm that we are still on for dinner tonight.” Sal’s voice is calm and seems a little confused as why he was so flippant with her.

House coughs as he sits up in his bed before replying, “Ah. Sal. I thought you were Wilson calling. I got home last night - er - early this morning. He usually checks in on me.”

“I see. Well sorry to disappoint you. I guess.” Sal laughs lightly, “Anyways, you said you’d give me the final details about dinner.”

House scratches his head as he begins to put things back together outside of his recent case. That’s right, he and Sal had agreed to dinner on Thursday, which is indeed today. And he said he’d let her know on Wednesday. Whoops. House quickly explains that he got distracted with work and continues to give her the details about meeting at the French Bistro at seven-thirty. She is oddly understanding and tells him that she’ll see him there.

Moving slowly but steadily, he showers, puts on what he thinks is reasonably clean clothing and makes it into PPTH via a cab just in time for his Clinic duty and can make a quick wave and nod to Wilson off in the distance. Wilson smiles and waves back as he heads towards the elevators with a chart.

The Clinic today is just busy enough to prevent him from thinking about his failure but not so much that he wants to punt each idiot out the door in the name of population control. As he signs out just before five, he makes it up to Wilson’s office where the younger man is working his way through a huge pile of charts. The end of the month must be approaching, and he never envies what it is like to sign off on a normal department’s worth of paperwork.

He plops down on the couch and makes a quippy remark about Wilson’s tower of paperwork. Not missing a beat, Wilson points out that, he too could do his own paperwork instead of pestering him. The tone of Wilson’s voice says otherwise, letting him know that he’s welcome to chat with him; at least for a little while.

Just before he becomes too much of a distraction, House stands up and heads out the door. While he pulls the door open, Wilson speaks softly with a sincerity he hasn’t heard in a long time. “Greg. I’m sorry to hear about your patient.” Wilson looks at him, his chocolate brown eyes saying even more than those words.

House nods back. “Thanks.” And with that he’s walking towards his own office to head home. 

Once home, House tosses his jacket over the back of the couch and settles down for a bit before dinner by playing piano to relax and calm his growing nerves. A cup of hot tea steams on the coaster where his hard liquor once sat on the piano.

* * *

Around lunch you received a text from Wilson. He let you know he was dealing with a large pile of paperwork and felt he’d need to be in the office until at least six. Therefore, you could either pick a place to eat out at or if you are hungry to pick up some takeout and he’ll just eat it later if necessary.

Yawning, you realize takeout might be a good idea for tonight and decide on some Thai. Normally, you’d be more excited for dining out, but it has been a grey and depressing winter day and it just seems fitting to stay in.

You let him know your plans and he promptly replies with a smiley face emoji.

* * *

Wilson sighs in disappointment at the pile of paperwork that hasn’t diminished by much. A glance at his watch tells him it is already after six and he should be going. Turning the keys in the ignition of his car, his phone rings and he looks at it, wondering if it is his girlfriend. Instead, it is House and there is a twinge of panic in his voice.

“Fuck! Wilson! I need you to get to my place now.” House sounds distressed. Could it be the loss of his patient has sunk in and he’s now dealing with that reality in a Vicodin free world?

“Okay! Okay! I’m just leaving PPTH now. I’ll see there soon.” Wilson makes it clear he’s on his way; his brain begins to hope that he won’t have to deal with House craving a drug he can no longer have. A drug that he continued to write scripts for even when he knew it was destroying his best friend.

Wilson almost leaps out of his car and into House’s building as he explodes through the door into the living room. “House!?! I’m here!” He shouts as reassuringly as he can as he walks towards the hallway.

House yells out that he’s in the bedroom. 

Inside the bedroom, he finds House standing in front of his bed, and half of House’s shirts haphazardly laid out over the unmade bed.

“Wilson! Good.” House looks at him with a desperation. “I don’t know what to wear.” And his right-hand sweeps over the shirts.

What to wear? Wilson is utterly confused. House isn’t about to relapse and need emergency help? Why is he so concerned about shirts? Just about to reply in confusion Wilson opens his mouth and stops in realization. He quickly shuts his mouth and brings his hand to cover his mouth as he spins away to compose himself, a shit eating grin forming in the corners of his mouth. House has his ‘casual’ dinner date with Sal. If House hadn’t been so busy with the case, he would have learned about this sooner, likely over lunch or last night if poker had happened. 

He doesn’t even have to bet that House lost track of time and what day of the week it was; he knows House likely only ‘remembered’ sometime earlier today. And House tried to play it cool which explains his visit to his office without getting to the point.

“Wilson! Are you going to help me or not? Looking away from the clothing isn’t very helpful and even if you have my entire wardrobe memorized, I still want you to at least pretend to look.” House’s voice causes him to turn back around to face his friend, the look of panic still beneath the surface of his bright blue eyes.

Wilson ruffles his hair as he regains his composure with quick clearing of his throat. He asks House which place he’s going to take Sal and sadly realizes that House is correct, he does know most of his shirts. As House tells him it is his favorite French Bistro, he quickly eliminates any of the grubby looking shirts as well as the few fancy dress shirts. 

“What about that black turtleneck sweater you used to wear? It goes well with jeans and is neither too casual nor too formal.” His best friend nods automatically to his reply and scratches his chin in a look of deep contemplation. He watches as House pulls the sweater from a dresser drawer and he gives it a quick sniff just in case. The sweater is unfolded and gets a visual inspection for any damage and once verified it doesn’t smell funny and has no gaping holes House pulls it over his head.

“I think this might be okay.” House can’t say it is actually a good suggestion, but he knows Wilson’s suggestion is.

“Just remember to be yourself. Sal already has seen you in action, so you don’t need to act like there is some part of you she hasn’t seen.” Wilson says this with emphasis on reassuring his best friend along with his sincere eyebrow expression.

House knows what this means, and he grunts as he heads to the bathroom to wash up quickly.

“Oh House, one last thing.” Wilson pauses in the hallway right before entering the living room on his way to the door. “Just don’t wear one of your horribly beat-up pairs of sneakers. It would defeat the purpose of getting a fresh scent sweater.”

Wilson smirks as he says this and House groans back from the bathroom. “Suuuuuurrreeee Mom. I’ll wear one of my nicer pairs.” 

Laughing in response to the extreme sarcasm, Wilson opens the door. “Night House! See you tomorrow.”

“Later Wilson!” House’s voice echoes into the hallway and a neighbor glares at him opening his apartment across the hall. Wilson bows his head and mutters a sorry as he quickly takes his leave and drives a few blocks to his girlfriend’s place. He enters just after seven and the smell of curry and the sound of her stereo greets him. 

She’s sitting on her couch reading a book and she smiles. “Food is on the counter for you. You were at work pretty late.”

He removes his coat and steps over to lean down for a kiss. “Yes and no. I left work just after six, but House had a wardrobe panic. He’s got a date with Sal tonight, and I had to help him pick out a shirt.”

His girlfriend laughs lightly in response before continuing that she could see that. She could also imagine House forgot about his date which added to his situation. As he reheats some curry and rice, he tells her about House’s interesting shirt selection approach and the sniffing of the sweater.

Carefully, he brings the plate into the living room and eats it while they talk about the past few days. He complains about end of the month paperwork piling up and she wonders what they should do for their New York trip in a few weeks that is unrelated to a ‘romantic’ holiday. Together they clean up the kitchen and he hugs her from behind, humming in contentment. 

Afterwards, the two of them lay in her bed, both reluctant to prepare for sleep and the last day of the work week.

* * *

The sound of Wilson’s alarm goes off in the background and you roll over savoring your laziness in your morning routine. Keith is already up and meowing at Wilson as he heads to the bathroom and to scoop out breakfast for the feline.

Over coffee and cereal, Wilson tells you that he’s got a board meeting today, so he’ll likely be leaving work later than normal, so he’ll just text you when he’s done. It isn’t a big deal for you since you also have meetings and a few projects you want to make sure are on schedule. There are still leftovers from last night’s Thai and you’ll just throw together something else if you are still hungry.

Wilson sighs about how he’s got a huge pile of paperwork and he’s glad next week won’t have Clinic duty but is stressed out about the bureaucratic doldrums. With a fluid motion he leans in for a kiss and is quickly out the door earlier than normal.

Keith meows at you pulling you out of your thoughts and you stand up from the kitchen table to dress and drive to work. The weather is still that damp oppressive crappy winter day when you begin to tire of the season. It has almost been a month since the holidays and the sparkle is gone. Now, you notice all of the snow, slush, overcast skies and snirt on the sidewalks.

It is gonna be one of those days, one where you need headphones to dive into your own world as you check off each item of your day. Sighing you enter the office, drop off your coat and bag, pull out your ipod, plug noise cancelling headphones in and slide them over your ears. A quick spin of the outdated wheel, you land on ‘Hungry Ghost’ by the Violent Soho and you are off to the lab to set up some PCRs, check your plants and sort things out before two afternoon meetings.

**_I will smile  
The greatest written smile  
No one to complain  
Written in chrome and gore  
It's all the same_ **

**_Yeah yeah yeah  
Yeah yeah yeah  
Yeah yeah yeah  
Yeah yeah yeah  
Yeah yeah yeah_ **

By time you reach the first chorus of ‘yeah yeah yeah’ in the song ‘Covered in chrome’, you are in the zone. The morning rolls along to the sound of punk rock and grunge with more Violent Soho, Smashing Pumpkins (‘Gish’ only), and The Screaming Females. 

Lunch is in the café and you keep to yourself as you scroll through Instagram and you check your personal email. One of your close friends from undergrad has sent you a message, she just got a job offer in Philly and she accepted it! She’ll be about an hour away from you now! Smiling to your phone, you wait to reply to her with an actual keyboard and when the first meeting starts you only half hear what is being said. Turns out being partially distracted makes wasteful meetings a lot less painful. Who would have imagined that?

Almost skipping out the door, you head off to work on a few more things. Even though it is after five, you are in no rush since Wilson hasn’t texted you yet and you decide to shove off at five-forty at the latest if he hasn’t messaged you by then.

Sure enough, five-forty rolls around and no text from Wilson – he wasn’t kidding about getting stuck in a meeting. You drive home listening to the local radio station for once as they do their eighties rush hour block. It varies between obvious cheese like hair metal but just as you are about the put in a CD, in Echo and the Bunnymen come on with ‘The Cutter’ and you decide the dj isn’t terrible as it moves on to a goth/new wave/new romantic/synth block. 

Wilson doesn’t text until after six and he lets you know he’s got to swing by his place before heading over to yours. It gives you enough time to throw together a quick salad and toast some bread while you pull out the Thai curry from last night.

The sound of a key on the door, reminds you to tell him it is unlocked, and Wilson enters looking worn out. His hair is messy, likely from playing with it absent mindedly or running around. Keith runs up to greet him with a friendly mew and some leg rubs as Wilson looks down at him and smiles slightly. You let him know that you have supper ready and he should sit down and eat.

The soft smile and sweetness in his eyes, catches you by surprise as he enters the kitchen and gives you a big hug. “Thanks. I appreciate it.” He kisses you on the cheek and you can smell his exhaustion. Squeezing him back you tell him it isn’t a problem and urge him to sit down and eat.

Over supper, the two of you discuss your days, but instead of one person giving a monologue you bounce back and forth different aspects of your day. Wilson had a lot of extra paperwork, since he had to account for when Eva covered him, and it required a few additional signatures here and there. He listens as you talk about your various projects and how your friend is moving to Philly from Northern Virginia and you **_are_** stoked. If anyone would appreciate having a good friend closer, it would be him.

After eating, you clean up and are able to ask him if he heard about House’s date last night. He laughs while washing a plate, House didn’t say anything about the date yet, but he seemed to walk with some extra spring in his step. Wilson thinks this is an indication that House didn’t fuck things up last night. He wasn’t able to grab lunch with House as the hiring committee had a meeting all afternoon for the logistics of the new hires and they made House retake HR training. Sure, House may have already completed it once, but everyone knows he put sunglasses on for most of it and napped only to make sure he woke up to pass the certification quiz with the bare minimum score of an eighty percent.

With a giggle, Wilson continued that, Cuddy told him before the board meeting, that this year House had tried to use half of a plastic easter egg with a magic marker pupil/iris over his eyes, but it was almost laughable. You can’t help but laugh along and you nudge him to wrap things up so he can sit down while you take care of things. 

Wilson plops down on your couch and when you finish up the dishes, he’s half-awake. Feeling bold, you tell him to head into the bedroom. He perks up slightly, “What are you thinking?” you lean over him.

“I think you are in need of a good massage. Go on ahead and get comfortable on my bed with a towel and I’ll do my best.” You can’t believe how chill and confident you are. He smiles back and gets up to take off his work uniform and you putter around in your small bathroom to find massage oils shoved in the bottom of a drawer. 

You put on a lo fi streaming music station on in the background and enter your bedroom to find Wilson laying on his stomach in only his underwear on a towel. He turns to smile at you from the bed and you fiddle with the bottle of massage oil between your hands. It has been a long time since you’ve given another person a massage, so you aren’t sure if your skills are sufficient. Then again, based on the dopey grin from Wilson, you will likely be alright.

Speaking softly, you tell him what you are going to do and give him a good idea of what will happen next. The tension in his shoulders and upper back is obvious – even you can feel the knots and with some patience and some force, they slowly melt away. Occasionally, he makes a few whimpers of discomfort when you get a little bit too intense, but in those instances he’s able to give you feedback immediately to adjust. Just like at work earlier in the day, you fall into a sort of zone of concentration. Over an hour later, a noodle version of Wilson is laying below your novice hands, his eyes barely open. It takes some prodding to get him up off of the bed and wash off the oil, but you succeed. By time you join him, he’s out cold, his deep breathing the only sound in the room. 

Feeling content, you turn off the lights and Keith quickly leaps up on the bed to join you. Snuggling under the blankets, you sigh to yourself and smile as a cat butt pushes into your legs. You’ll likely want your sleep tonight as you predict that you will be roused by a feistier than normal someone tomorrow morning.

* * *

**_Thank god it is Friday_**. 

It is the first thought of the morning as Eva wakes up in her condo. Today is a morning gym day. She rolls out from under her cloudy sky comforter and walks down to the main floor. The automatic single cup coffee maker turns on and begins to brew her a perfect cup so that by time she’s out of the bathroom, it is ready and waiting for her. After checking the forecast for a cloudy and dreary winter day, she sighs and changes into her gym clothes and is out the door with a duffel bag and purse.

The quiet of the fitness center at six-thirty is punctuated by the beeps and bleeps of people entering and, just like her trying to squeeze in cardio before the bacchanal delights of the weekend in the city. Her hair is tied up in a high ponytail that swishes along as she does her routine on the elliptical listening to the pop hits of the 80s on her headphones. At exactly seven-forty she begins her cool down routine, stretching out her invigorated muscles. With timing that would impress the engineers of Japanese train schedules, Eva is showered, blow-dried, fully clothed and made-up with time to spare for an eight-thirty start time in the office. 

The slushy sidewalks prevent her from wearing fancy heels into the building, but she changes into her signature shoes in the lobby. There is something empowering about the sound of heels echoing through the hall and into the office.

JoAnne is already at her desk working away when she enters. Eva greets her and she replies in kind before getting up to head to the barista for their morning lattes. The two women go over her schedule. With the industry review panel over, her morning is back to patient consults and she has a quick trip to check on a few of her more severe cases. The afternoon is ‘open’ but it really means that she’s supposed to either be finding more pharma trials to participate in or take on more patients. 

Dismayed by the thought of hustling to find another clinical trial so soon and not in the mood for more patients, she sighs audibly.

“You alright Eva?” JoAnne’s voice brings her back into the present.

She smooths her hair down and replies to the astute secretary, “Yeah. I’m fine Jo. Just feeling Friday.”

As they conclude things, JoAnne excuses herself and picks up the tray with their empty cups. Just before she’s out the door, Eva has a thought.

“Jo. Hold on a second.” She speaks as casually as possible. “Let’s take advantage of my open schedule today and go out for lunch. Out of the building.”

JoAnne smiles slightly and nods, “Okay. After one when you are back from your rounds?” 

“Yes. I’ll text when I’m in the lobby so you can just meet be down there.” Eva nods and JoAnne nods back silently.

From nine to eleven she has a grand total of three patients come in for office visits. All are chemotherapy follow-ups and well on the road to recovery. Eva feels slightly happy that they are all likely going to return to their lives before the ‘diagnosis’, but things ring empty.

She then bundles up and changes back into her more functional boots to head to the hospital and meet Cho. The nurse walks her through, and she checks the charts as she chats with each patient and Cho. That empty feeling follows her through her rounds until they reach her last patient, a woman who isn’t responding as well to the current treatment. Carefully, looking at the most recent results, she notices that a few of the numbers are off from last week. 

“Nurse Cho, are these numbers correct? A few of them seem to be a little low?” Eva looks at Cho who walks over and looks at the paper. 

“Yeah, I talked with the tech who gave me the results, he said it wasn’t out of the range for normal.” Cho shrugs and looks at her. She is a through nurse and is a stickler for making sure patients are monitored properly. Eva wraps her arms across her chest as she thinks; Cho is very much a by the book individual but always defers to what seems okay. 

The unusual numbers tug at her. Something is swirling around in her mind, but it is too slippery at the moment to pin down. Cautiously, as to not irritate Cho, she decides to double check things later in her office.

Physical rounds complete, she thanks Cho for her hard work and heads back to the building and texts JoAnne so that they are able to meet in the lobby before heading out onto the bustling street. Wanting a degree of privacy, they walk a few blocks away from work and turn into a small diner that won’t be patronized by anyone else from the practice.

Over soup and sandwiches, Eva tells JoAnne about her plans to work part-time outside of the city. She also fully discloses the practices habit of promoting older and more experience women upwards and inwards. JoAnne is not surprised by either of these revelations. She had heard some water cooler gossip after the last board meeting and could tell that Eva was unhappy with her current situation. She also had figured out years ago how promotion worked, so she has been deciding if she should accept her fate since she wouldn’t mind working in the other department. More that she’d miss working directly with Eva.

Eva is shocked at the other woman’s clear understanding of the situation at hand. And here she thought she was helping her out. . . or was this her own feelings of loss about losing Jo in her office? Awkwardly, she laughs and mentions that she could always have Jo move with her.

The dry laugh from JoAnne tells her it was the wrong thing to say. Pointing at her with a soup spoon for emphasis, JoAnne makes it clear she will never leave the city as much as she likes working with Eva. She can go chase her **_small-town_** dreams – by herself. And she holds the pose with an eyebrow arched up. The moment seems tense between them until Jo can’t hold the seriousness anymore and bursts out laughing.

“In all seriousness Eva, I hope you can find something that is fulfilling to you now. If that is in the city great, but if not, go for it. Just don’t expect me to be there to hold your hand.” JoAnne smiles softly and Eva feels that things will be alright, even though she has no evidence at the moment.

After splitting a giant piece of apple pie, they head back to the office. JoAnne is going to a friend’s gallery opening, so she’ll have to head out early. It leaves Eva alone in her office until five. She pulls up her resume and updates it while double-checking the job description for the part-time position at PPTH. When it is time to head out, she heads to the subway to Brooklyn to meet a few other oncologists from specialization back at UPenn for dinner and drinks, including Matt Jones. The small group of doctors drink expensive beverages and order plate after plate of tapas. They catch up on gossip as well as either others’ lives at the moment.

Somehow, the group begins to ponder about others from their group and James comes up. Liz Li asks the group if anyone knows what happened to **_wonder boy_** Wilson, one of the kinder nicknames given to him by the most competitive of the group. Matt jumps in while looking at Eva the entire time, “Oh yeah. Jim Wilson was a clinical reviewer with Eva and I that just wrapped up. He seemed to be a bit overworked at Princeton-Plainsboro. Right Eva?”

What is up with this – this glare from Matt? He doesn’t think that she’s interested in dating James and that she broke things off with him because of James. Swirling her merlot around in the glass she watches the tiny waves. 

“I don’t think he was that overworked; he did have a colleague take mat leave recently and he is a department head, something that most of us aren’t.” Eva speaks casually and tilts her head at Matt trying to get at what he’s driving at. Does she need to speak to him to clarify stuff? 

The group discusses it is impressive that he’s running a department and pivots to talk about another former classmate. Several glasses of wine and a pile of plates later, the group begins to disperse. She and Matt head to the subway with a few others. Just before he goes to catch an express train to his stop, she tells him to come to her place. He stops mid-step in the platform as the train pulls into the station. Unsure what to expect, he hangs back and the two of them take the next local to her stop. Matt’s knee bounces up and down as they barely talk sitting next to each other. 

The uncomfortable silence continues to her apartment door and he quietly follows her into the condo and begins to do what he used to do when staying over at her place until he freezes.

“Eva, I need to know what this is.” Matt speaks quietly. Eva turns to him while hanging up her coat and sliding into her slippers.

“I want to talk. Just talk.” Her voice is as firm as she can make it, though for the first time in a long time, she feels less certain than she sounds. “Look, I’m going to make a cup of cocoa. What do you want? Tea, coffee, water etc.

The other oncologist looks around and hangs his head. “If you are having a cup of cocoa, I’ll have one too. With the tiny marshmallows as well.” He gives her a terse smile and slides out of his shoes and hangs his coat up on a different hook than before.

Eva pulls out the container of the Ghirardelli dark chocolate cocoa mix she bought in San Francisco last year for a conference at UCSF and excavates some marshmallows from a corner of her freezer.

Several minutes later, she walks into the living room where Matt is standing at the window looking out towards the park, most of the lights still off or dimmed to have a better view. Quietly, she walks up next to him and hands him the steaming hot mug. “Here you go Matt. One hot chocolate with marshmallows.”

He turns to her and takes the mug from her hand, fingers touching hers slightly. “Thanks Eva.” He looks back out the window, cradling the mug for warmth. “It certainly is some view. Beautiful, even at night.” Matt pauses to take a sip of his drink. 

Eva hums in agreement. He’s correct, it is the best part of her small piece of New York.

“The same could be said for you.” Matt’s voice is even quieter with a sultry undertone, and he turns his head to look at her face. His eyes are open wide, a clear longing in them. She feels a slight shiver go through her body as she thinks about how much he must want to have sex with her.

Breaking the intimacy, she steps back from the window and turns on a light illuminating the room. Matt’s mouth turns to a frown and his eyes narrow. “Let’s sit down.” She leads him back to her small couch and sits on the chair perpendicular to it. Reluctantly, he sits down, though the agony of defeat surrounds him. With a quick tap to her remote, she’s able to turn on the stereo to play calming ocean waves in the background. Taking a cleansing breath, she begins to tell Matt everything. About her plans to apply to the position at PPTH, why she enjoyed working there, what she told the board at her practice and the gamble she is taking with her partnership.

Periodically, Matt sips his cocoa and only asks for clarification until she has told him everything.

It may have been the longest that she has spoken to Matt and he just listened to her. His uncharacteristic silence leaves her unsettled. She thought if she was completely honest with him, he’d understand.

Standing up, he takes her empty mug with his and excuses himself to the kitchen. The sound of the toilet flushing and the tap has her astutely listening in hopes of understanding what he’s thinking. He returns to sit on the couch and puts his hand on the cushion next to him. “Eva. Can you sit here next to me?”

Cautiously, she sits down next to him and she studies his face carefully. The edges of his eyes look wet and it makes his green eyes look more striking against is black hair and brows.

“I don’t know what to say. I’ve known you all these years and I still don’t know what you are thinking or how you feel. I thought.” He swallows and gently places his right hand on her left knee. “I thought we had something special. Something different for both of us. But if what you just told me is how you feel - than - I don’t know you at all.”

He moves so he’s facing her, right knee underneath his body, the left leg off the couch. Boldly he places both hands on her shoulders. “I love you.” Matt’s face is close to hers and she’s not sure what to even say. Eva’s mind makes a rapid number of calculations; she could tell him that she doesn’t love him, and he’d be dejected and leave; she could not answer him and just fuck him, but he just declared how he feels about her; just because she doesn’t want a long-term romantic relationship with him, she still values his friendship.

The ice queen swallows before clearing her throat. “I really like you Matt. You are an important friend to me.” She puts her hands on his hands on her shoulders and squeezes his reassuringly.

Matt leans in closer, his nose almost touching hers, “But do you love me?” His eyes bore into hers, unable to even glance away. Avoiding having to answer him, she closes her eyes and kisses him. She knows she doesn’t love him in a romantic sense, but she’s pretty sure that she loves him as a good friend. This will buy her some time before finding a way to make it clear to him that she doesn’t want to date him.

Going on autopilot from previous times, they head up to her bedroom and all things considered, the sex is excellent. Matt quickly falls asleep while she stares at the ceiling. She is going to need to avoid Matt until she has a good answer or an excuse that it won’t work out between them. Quietly, she slips out of bed and texts Jennifer who is certainly wrapping things up at Cloud on a Friday night after midnight. Her text is brief.

****

**_Need brunch invite in Princeton tomorrow morning. 10 or 11AM best, need to be out by 8 at the latest. Spending the night as well at your place._ **

The message is sent off into the ether and she washes her face to help calm her nerves. When she returns to check the phone her friend has replied.

**_10:30 @ uni diner._ **

Escape plan established, she can relax, and she finally falls asleep next to Matt.

* * *

You are woken to the feeling of hands caressing you in the early morning light before Wilson pulls himself flush with your back, humming softly to himself in anticipation. Feeling frisky, you turn to face him and passionately kiss him so forcefully that his eyes open wide. You roll him onto his back and lean down to whisper in his ear. “Feeling much more relaxed? I think I can take things from here.” You smirk at him as he hums in approval and you begin to divest him of his clothing.

Keith bounds into the bedroom meowing in agony that he hasn’t been fed as you lay over your boyfriend, sweaty and naked. 

Wilson looks up at you and then at Keith who’s look is ultimate cat judgement. “I’ll take care of him, but don’t go anywhere.” Pulling on his flannel pants, he walks out to feed the feline who leaps ahead of him, ordering him with insistent mews.

When Wilson returns, he’s grinning like an idiot and he leaps onto your bed next to you before pinning you below him. “Ready for round two?” He gazes down at you a mix of playfulness and contentment. 

Smirking you reply, “Impress me.” And he leans down to kiss you before working his way down your body. Round two passes the test; you are impressed by the sexual skills of the mild-mannered and conservative looking medical professional.

It is the sound of both of your stomachs that finally get you both out of bed; craving an omelet you are disappointed to learn that two eggs are all that remain in the carton. “Shit, I was hoping for more eggs and something else, but I seem to need to buy more groceries.” Wilson hugs you from behind and rests his chin on your shoulder as he looks at your few options of possible breakfast food.

“Hrm. I agree. Let’s go out for breakfast. We can go to the diner near the university again.” He kisses you on the cheek.

It sounds like a good idea and the two of you move as quickly as possible to get dressed, except for the fact that he does not skimp on his hair styling routine. It is forgivable when you see his new jeans paired with his McGill sweatshirt. You are wearing one of your many sweater and skirt combinations and he smiles at you sweetly.

The morning is still cold, but the grey skies seem to be breaking up to let a little sun into the day. The diner is just beginning to fill up and you are able to get a table for two with no wait just after ten.

Wilson orders the French toast, and you get a veggie omelet and both of you sip on your diner quality coffees while waiting for your orders. Over breakfast, he asks you what you want to do for the non-Valentines trip to New York in a few weeks. You haven’t been to the city for years and you have no real idea of what you’d want to do that is hip and trendy. Going to the Met is the only thing you can think of, but that isn’t all you could do.

The sound of heels catches your attention as you recognize the woman wearing them – it is that doctor from the panel, Eva Forrester, and she’s with another woman. Wilson turns to look, and he waves at them.

“Eva, Jennifer. Hey.” His friendliness isn’t his customer service type, it is the honest James Wilson warmth. Both women wave back and motion that they will catch up with him in a bit.

After seated, they place their orders and Eva walks over to your booth. “Morning. I’m visiting Jenn today and tomorrow. Funny running into you at a greasy spoon like this James.” She is blunt but polite in her own manner.

Wilson ruffles his hair in embarrassment, “Well, it does hit the spot every now and then and it looks like we need to do some grocery shopping later today. Two eggs are not enough for two adults.”

The always fashionable Eva nods curtly and you have the time to look at her outfit. She’s wearing bright red heels that are a little lower than what you’ve seen previously paired with indigo boyfriend jeans that are cuffed right above the angle to reveal black socks. Her sweater is a tight-fitting black cashmere piece that clearly shows her watch and a small scarf around her neck that has a small cherry print. Of course, her bright red lipstick matches the scarf and shoes; her blonde hair is pulled back in a loose ponytail. The only thing you notice is that her eyes look sad and show signs of not enough concealer over the purple.

Eva and Wilson briefly chat about nothing in particular and she invites the two of you to join her at Cloud tonight, around seven. Wilson looks at you before replying to her. Nodding, he smiles and replies that both of you would love to join her.

She then excuses herself to return to her table and you and Wilson finish up your breakfast. Realizing she is the perfect Manhattan insider; you tell him you will ask her for suggestions in New York and Wilson beams back at you while sipping his coffee. 

Wilson then mentions your somewhat lacking pantry and after finishing breakfast, the two of you head to the grocery store. Politely, he asks you to stay over at his place tonight after dinner at Cloud and you agree with him seeing that it would be fair and follow through on what you had previously discussed. The two of you return to your place and unpack various foods and Keith supervises you, making sure to inspect each bag for tasty items like tomatoes, peppers or cucumbers.

The afternoon sun coming through the window pulls both Wilson and Keith to your couch and they snuggle up together quickly falling asleep. While the two of them rest, you tidy up, and pack your bag for tonight/tomorrow.

As the sun sets, Keith wakes up first, knowing that it is closer to supper time and he stretches his entire body out while yawning. He meows loudly at you while you try to tell him it isn’t supper time just yet. Eventually, your one-sided conversation rouses Wilson from his slumber and he sits up rubbing his face with his hands, hair askew. 

He sniffs his armpits before he notices you are watching him; he stops mid-sniff and ruffles his hair. “Ah, I seem to be a bit smelly, I’m going to wash up a bit before we meet Eva for dinner.” Wilson’s voice is adorable as he tries to play it cool. You laugh and tell him it is okay; you do that all the time.

Standing up he ruffles his hair one last time before walks over to you in the kitchen where your conversation with Keith has led you. Laughing he hugs you from behind, “So, do you want to confirm that I’m stinky?” and his lips kiss the left side of your neck.

Reaching back to smack him on the ass with your hand, he makes a little yelp before you answer him. “I’m okay, thanks.”

He turns around to face you and glances at the clock to check the time – just after five . . . his hands settle on your waist and yours just happen to land on his bum. It seems the two of you are calculating the same mental math – how much time do you have before heading out the door for dinner? You look into his dark brown eyes and his puerile charms suck you in for a kiss. As you begin to make out, you think you have plenty of time.

And then, a loud deep meow causes you and Wilson to freeze since Keith hasn’t been fed supper. The two of you take a step back, “I’ll just – you know-” as you move to scoop some kibble and Wilson replies with an equally half complete “Yeah. Water dish.” While he’s already picking up the bowl to rinse it out and refill it.

Cat nutritional needs met for the moment, you turn to see him and you almost collide with him as he pulls you to the couch. With a time limit in place, talking is too much and instead you quickly remove his sweatshirt and he’s tugging at your sweater.

The next time you look at the clock it is five minutes till six. Wilson ruffles his already messy hair and sloppily kisses you on the cheek. “Welp, I gotta get ready.” Completely naked, he walks into the bathroom and you witness a ‘minimal’ routine where he is out of the shower in fifteen minutes. He even opens the door to let you know, you can hop in if you want. What is this? Wilson cutting corners on his grooming routine?

It makes you giggle to yourself and by quarter till, you’ve changed into a nicer sweater-skirt combination and he’s wearing his blue and white gingham dress shirt with a black sweater vest and his jeans. It looks nice on him, more than nice, it turns you on. Damn sweater vests and fitted jeans! Picking up on your dirty thoughts, he winks at you, “Come on, you can take my clothing off after dinner.”

Embarrassed, you look away from him and change the subject. “Let’s get going. It would be rude to make her late even if she’s friends with the owner.”

He smiles in reply and gestures for you to put on your coat and shoes. You shut the door and make sure to remind Keith not to burn down the house and his reply is him curling up on the couch.

Arm and arm, you walk toward the restaurant. You still aren’t quite sure what to expect, but following Wilson’s lead you think that it will go alright.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Haha! I got you to read a whole chapter and we don't even know how House's date went yet. I ended up putting in more details about the Eva-Matt dynamic. Also, I realized I never described him so apologies to who saw him differently. Think of a male version of the Welsh actress Eve Myles, black hair and green eyes.
> 
> A note about high heels. In my younger years I thought they were dumb and anti-feminist. During my goth days, I slowly embraced platforms and worked my way to heels. Now, I'm the only person at work who wears heels on a regular basis and I will always love the sound of them in the hallway. Additionally, some heels do deserve the bad rap they get b/c they eat your feet. The best thing is to buy nice and comfortable heels.
> 
> The Violent Soho are the best kept musical secret from Australia. If you are a fan of punk and 90s grunge this band from Brisbane is for you. I'd love to see them live; look up the music video for 'Covered in Chrome' it is one of those low budget but cleverly shot videos. Currently, I'm shaking my fist at Covid, but once I get vaccinated, I can make use of my plane tickets I bought in 2020 to fly to Australia for vacation.


	37. relationships are complicated

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The story continues. House finally describes his date, in the most House fashion possible and Bonnie Wilson bumps into her ex.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Work is back to a 'normal' covid schedule and I'm still adjusting to a return to a more regular schedule. Hopefully, this will result in me having more time to work on the fic with better time management.

Matt Jones wakes up feeling warm and disoriented for a moment. The soft glow of dimmed lights of Manhattan illuminate Eva’s loft and he remembers that he came home with her last night. He peels back the duvet to cool off, the air of the room feels refreshing on his bare skin. He’s not sure what time it is, but clearly still before dawn. Rolling to his side he can read her small alarm clock to read the current time of 5:37. Matt debates what to do next, he could snuggle up to Eva or just go back to sleep. He almost moves towards her, when he notices that she’s wearing her pajamas – his heart drops, she took the time to change into clothing before going to bed while he passed out in his underwear. 

It is clear something has changed in between them; she didn’t use to put her pjs on after sex previously. Still not awake enough to ponder this and maybe not wanting to ponder it, he decides to go back to sleep as he repositions himself with his back towards her.

The next time he wakes, it is to the sound of her alarm going off, still far too early for a Saturday. Groaning he pulls the blanket over his head while she wordlessly slides out of her bed and heads down to the bathroom. A flush of the toilet, followed by the sound of the shower signals to him that she’s honestly getting up this early on the weekend? Matt takes a quick glance at the clock to read it is 6:41. Does she have some sort of new routine? Feeling used, he burrows under the covers with a huff of breath.

The sound of her footsteps alerts him to her return to the bedroom and he pretends to be asleep. “Matt. I got a message from Jenn; she wants to have brunch.” Eva’s voice is unusually flat, even for her. 

He peeks out from the blanket and blinks his eyes. “Well, no place is open yet and it will take her at least two hours to make to the city. No rush.”

Eva turns away from him for a second and adjusts the towel around her wet hair. “She wants me to have brunch with her in Princeton. I’ll have to catch a train by eight at the latest to meet her in time.” She pauses for another almost awkward moment. “But you don’t need to rush out, you can let yourself whenever.” 

Matt always has something to say, but in this moment he’s speechless. He runs his hand through his hair pulling himself together. “That’s fine. The sooner I get home, the sooner I can get fresh clothing.” 

**_What am I even saying?_** Matt feels like he’s off and it is a struggle to understand what is happening. Eva makes a hum in reply and begins to get ready.

“I’m making some coffee? Would you like some as well?” Her voice echoes up from the kitchen area. Feeling lost he replies that it is fine, and he finally gets out of her bed. Her hair is now dry and pulled into a loose low ponytail. She smiles at him sweetly.

In a daze, he watches her as she dresses and packs a Boston bag, clearly, she’s spending the night in Princeton. Is she so eager to return to Jersey? In his underwear and undershirt, he drinks a cup of coffee awhile watching the sun rise and the light washes into the apartment.

The silence between them indicates something remains unresolved between the two of them, but neither of them is going to speak to it. She packs up her last few items into her purse as she turns to him. She’s wearing a form fitting black sweater, with loose jeans and simple black socks. No make-up at the moment, that will likely be applied on the commuter train.

“Well, I’m off Matt. Take as much time as you need before heading home.” She is sliding her left arm into her winter coat, waiting for him to say something.

“Thanks, but the sooner I head out the sooner I can put on fresh clothes.” Matt still is replying where he feels like it isn’t him speaking. 

Hat, scarf and gloves on, she slides into one of pair of causal heels in the small entryway. “Bye.” She nods to him and he says the same single word back to her as the door clicks shut.

* * *

The steady and rapid sound of Eva’s footsteps echo in the stairwell down to the subway gates. She wants to have more than enough time to catch the commuter train down to Jersey. It won’t be that crowded this early and, on the weekend, but she’s keen to get a seat on the upper level away from others. 

She transfers from the subway to make her way through Penn Station and quickly makes her way to the track and platform. As planned, she’s able to get a secluded seat to herself on the NJ transit train. Settled, she texts her best friend informing her that she’s on the train and the estimated time of her arrival. Jenn, isn’t up yet, but she knows she’ll be there to pick her up at the station when required.

The train is cold and quiet; she pulls out basic make-up items and starts to apply it. Unfortunately, she forgot concealer and she sighs as she does her best to cover the bags under her eyes. 

Approximately two hours later the train pulls into Princeton and she collects her items and the ping of a new incoming text let’s her know that Jenn is likely there in the kiss and ride waiting for her. To be sure, she double checks the phone in the warmth of the small station building and sees the text from Jenn, that confirms she’s ready and waiting in her car. Smiling to herself, she exits and sees Jenn in her idling car and waves once towards her.

“Mornin’.” Jennifer greets her with a warm but worried smile. “Morning Jenn. Thanks for picking me up.” The two friends exchange a brief half hug.

The restaurateur shifts the car from park to drive, “No problem, but you know you’ll have to explain in detail after breakfast – at the latest.”

Eva sighs and fidgets in her seat. “I will.” And with that the two of them are off to the best greasy spoon diner in Princeton.

* * *

Just before seven, Wilson finds himself heading to Cloud, his girlfriend linked arm in arm with him. He’s in a good mood all things considered, there is nothing like sex before dinner – it can relax anyone from a situation that could be awkward. He’s honestly curious why Eva invited the two of them to join her for dinner, as he told her, there isn’t anything he can do about her application to the position on House’s team.

Wilson is glad that his girlfriend is cool with this situation – many of his past female partners would have refused the dinner invite, seeing Eva as competition – or something. Maybe she isn’t intimated by Eva or maybe, she’s trusting him in the relationship. A concept that flatters Wilson and he blushes as they walk down the sidewalk. Thankfully, the dim illumination from the streetlights hides his flushed face and it could even be explained due to the cold temperatures as their breath floats around them.

At seven exactly, they enter Cloud and tell the hostess they are meeting Eva and Jenn. The woman leads them to a booth in the corner of the bar next to a window and hidden from most of the room with a high divider. Eva and Jenn are both seated, drinks already on the table. Pleasantries are exchanged as his girlfriend slides into the seat across from them and he hangs up both of their coats. 

Jennifer gestures to one of her waitstaff to get drink orders for them. Wilson watches as his girlfriend ponders the menu before deciding on a Satsuma orange cocktail and a water. He’s pleasantly surprised, she’s not usually one for cocktails or mixed drinks but seems at ease with her selection. He orders the whisky based special of the moment and a water as well.

Eva has changed from earlier, well at least her top. She’s wearing a light-colored cable knit sweater, that appears to be a size too large and her lipstick seems lighter in the soft lighting of the bar. Jennifer excuses herself for a moment to check in with her crew and begins the conversation asking how Eva’s day has gone so far.

The icy woman turns her wineglass as he notices her melt a little on the edges. “Oh, you know. A little tired from heading out of the city early this morning. It was nice to catch up with Jenn though. I wanted to ask her more questions about living in Princeton.”

Wilson is about to follow up the feeling of sadness that he’s getting from her, but his girlfriend takes the lead. She’s keen to exchange her opinion of Princeton living for information on things to do in the city in a few weeks – which would align with their non-Valentine’s-Valentine’s plans. Instead of probing Eva directly for what is bothering her, he watches her as they discuss the newest places to eat, which hotel would be the best for visiting the Met, shopping and food options of course.

When Jennifer returns, she smiles before gesturing to a sever with a tray filled with small tapas plates. “Sorry for the absence, I wanted to make sure everyone was in order before bringing out the plates for dinner.”

Wilson’s stomach rumbles a reminder that he’s hungry and his girlfriend only stops from discussing New York plans to eat so that she can return to collecting as much up to date information as possible. She said she’s no fan of this particular ‘Hallmark Holiday’, yet her dedication to researching options betrays her intent. He laughs to himself as he bites into a perfectly grilled shrimp with citrus glaze. It is becoming clear that tomorrow she’ll come up with a list of things to narrow down for them to do in the city and it makes him feel loved. 

Another round of drinks appears on the table, and the atmosphere feels comfortable, cozy even. Jenn and Eva have all sorts of inside jokes that they need to explain to him and his girlfriend. She nods along with them and mentions her friend moving to Philly for work soon and how she’s looking forward to it, even though she found out it came with the fact her best friend ended a ten-year relationship to make the move. 

Wilson pulls her in for a quick hug and reassures her that her friend’s actions would have been for the best (since this is the first time she’s told him this fact). Jenn jumps in to agree with him and he catches a shadow over Eva’s face for a moment before she snaps back into the conversation to add that sometimes you need to make the best decision for yourself. It is then that Wilson knows why Eva has that sadness around her – and he can bet it has to do with Matt Jones. However, he doesn’t have a chance to learn more as their conversation twists and turns until he yawns and glances at his watch. Holy crap it is just past nine! He needs to sober up to drive home. With a quick jolt at he realizes it, his girlfriend turns to him to ask what is up. He tells her what time it is; she gasps in surprise, “Oh man, we need to feed Keith soon!”

The next few moments she explains that Keith is her cat, and he gets brushed and a little bit of food before bed. Eva asks about Keith and she goes into great detail about the anal retentive moggie that loves Wilson. Now aware of the time, they slowly move towards hydrating and Wilson finally goes to pull out his wallet to settle the bill.

“Jennifer, all of those small plates were delicious, and I certainly enjoyed them. How would you like me to settle the check?” he makes sure to pull out his credit card and offer it across the table to her so she can’t refuse.

“Thank you very much, you are too kind, but if you insist.” She accepts his card and stands up to head to the small terminal to run it. Eva turns to protest, but Jennifer is already gone and Wilson smiles at her. “Don’t worry Eva. I’m sure you’ll have a chance to return the favor in the future.” She quietly replies that may become the case.

When Jennifer returns the card, he quickly signs in and makes sure to add a decent tip for the waitstaff and the privilege of such good service. “It was quite enjoyable this evening. Thank you so much for the invitation.” His girlfriend’s voice signals to him to stand up and put their coats and winter accessories on, “I’d love to stay but a certain feline will be quite upset if I do not brush him soon. Wilson offers his kindest regards as well and they soon are back out in the cold, light snowflakes floating in the night.

“That was quite pleasant. I could see myself doing this again if Eva moves here.” Wilson is surprised at the honestly in his voice and for a moment wonders if he just committed a relationship faux pas. “I agree. It was nice to talk to other professionals about all sorts of things.” He turns upon hearing her reply and he feels warm and content. Pulling her to his side he hums approvingly.

“Though, I wonder if Eva is upset by something. She seemed a little – off.” Her voice has stated what he had also observed. 

Nodding, Wilson agrees with her, “Yeah. It wasn’t much, but I agree with you. I’d even be willing to guess it had to do with Matt Jones.” She hums thoughtfully in reply to him and seems to keep what she’s thinking to herself for the moment.

Mews of urgency greet them as she unlocks her apartment door, and the necessary cat routine is followed to the letter. She leans down to give him a good pat on the head before they head to his place. “Be good Keith! I’ll see you tomorrow morning.” Keith mews in reply and trots towards her bedroom. He’ll likely spend the night in her bed missing her.

In the ride over to his condo, they begin to trade yawns back and forth. It is clear that they won’t be up that much longer. He puts on the kettle once they arrive and they change into pajamas while the water heats. With two steaming hot cups of herbal tea, Wilson settles down on his couch as she snuggles up next to him. They quietly watch the nightly news on low volume before retiring to his bedroom. He makes sure to set the alarm, she’ll want to get up early enough to feed Keith and they have an exciting Sunday of meal planning and prep to do.

With the twist of the light switch, he turns off the lamp and tells her goodnight. She replies to him before snuggling up next to him. It looks like she’s willing to spoon with him for a moment before rolling away to sleep. Wilson feels a blush bloom across his face in the dark room and he sighs as he is able to nuzzle her neck with his nose. This is good he thinks as he drops off to sleep.

* * *

You wake up to the sound of an alarm – Wilson’s and you feel a little heavy. It must have been the food and drink from last night, you usually don’t have so many rich things in a single sitting. Reluctantly, you drag yourself up to use the bathroom and shower. When you emerge to completely dressed, you are surprised to find Wilson also ready to go, “Off to feed Keith?” he’s got that little sparkle in the corner of his eyes and you are deeply touched by how much he cares about you and Keith.

This is a real relationship you remind yourself. And that is why you keep being surprised by what happens. The two of you return to your place. Wilson steps in only for a moment to pet Keith before he heads home to make some breakfast. You stay behind a bit to keep Keith company and you will drive back over to his place in a bit.

It gives you time to compose an email to your friend who will be moving to Philly. After blurting that out at dinner, you realize you need to let your friend know you will be around if she needs anything in the future. Keith curls up next to you, making sure his back touches your thigh, while you type away on the laptop. Once satisfied with things, you let Keith know you will be back for supper.

When you arrive at Wilson’s condo, you find yourself having to park in the open visitors’ area as House’s old sedan is parked in the second spot. Looks like this will be a three-person effort. When you enter the condo, the stereo is on playing the classic rock station and House and Wilson are speaking in excited tones to each other as you hear a “No waaayyy?” from Wilson as House laughs in delight.

“No way what?” Your voice is just loud enough that both men turn to you, looking like they got caught doing something bad. House scoffs at you and barks back, “You’re late! I needed to have the carrots chopped ten minutes ago.”

“Yeah yeah yeah. If I would have known there was a starting time it would’ve helped.” You roll your eyes as you snark back at the diagnostician, but can’t help but smile as you push your loose sweatshirt sleeves up to your elbows and approach the bowl of carrots.

“You didn’t tell her what time Wilson?” House flicks a glance at his best friend and Wilson makes a yelp back before retorting that he could have told his girlfriend when to start if House would have told him in advance that he was coming over to cook. Wilson has his hands on his hips looking sternly at House.

“Whatever, I don’t care who is pointing the blame at who. Just tell me what to do.” You smirk at House and give him a wink to which he seems a little confused.

Coughing, House regains his composure, “Second assistant, chop the carrots into half-inch pieces and then move onto the potatoes in similar fashion.” You reply with an eager “Aye sir.” And Wilson laughs as House tries to not be driven off track. 

“And you, Wilson, get back to beating those eggs, I want stiff peaks!” House walks over to the oven to pre-heat it while rummaging for a baking dish.

You bring the conversation back to whatever Wilson was surprised by, “So, what did you say that it shocked James?” You make sure to arch up an eyebrow in interest. Not missing a beat Wilson is back on the topic.

“Yes, House. I think you need more than one person to hear about your date with Sal. It might make me believe you more if another person hears about it.” Wilson is beaming as he continues to whisk the eggs with his left hand, cradling the bowl to his chest with his right arm.

House blushes and runs his hand over his growing hairs, “Nothing happened. I mean, Sal and I had a nice meal, we discussed music and at the end, we went our separate ways.”

Wilson can’t seem to believe that was all and he leans towards House, “Not even a kiss?”

House blushes even more, “No. We actually hugged.” House stares at his mismatched socks and his voice becomes quitter, “It was nice. I liked it.”

You stop chopping the carrots for a moment; this is something you’ve never seen from Wilson’s best friend. He’s being honest in his own nerdy way. It is endearing and you feel a sort of connection with the worn and weathered doctor.

After a moment of letting it sink in, Wilson lets out a sigh of relief, “That sounds nice. I’m happy for you Greg.” Wilson looks softly, lovingly across the kitchen island to House.

House nods silently for a moment and then the radio starts playing the ‘Teenage Wasteland’ song by The Who and House begins to air piano along to the music and switches to the drum line at the appropriate time.

You aren’t even surprised as House sings along and you can’t help but get swept up in his energy. Wilson is smiling and halfway into the song joins House in singing along as House switches between playing all of the instruments. The feeling of love in their friendship radiates out into the room and you find yourself smiling at them when you glance your reflection on the door of the oven.

When the song comes to an end, House rubs his hands over his face, “Alrighty! Let’s get back to work, this food won’t cook itself you know.”

The next few hours are spent washing, peeling and chopping as Wilson and House slowly discuss more details from his dinner date with Sal a few days ago. Wilson takes his time extracting the information he’s curious about and House seems to know that he should reveal thing piece by piece, feeding his friend’s curiosity and interest. Occasionally, House asks your opinion of things, but you state you are no expect at female thoughts or behaviors and can only guess what a certain statement or comment could mean.

The conversation evolves to hockey, House’s decision to play with the swing band when things pick up again in late February and how he’ll be doing his first pass of reviewing applicants for the job at the end of the work week. You find yourself comfortable on the edge of their conversation and contribute when it feels right. For the most part, you stay silent and watch the two men interacting and you see your own friendships reflected in their little mannerisms and jokes between each other. It is adorable and also reminds you that you miss your own friends that you’d have this degree of intimacy with and a slight sadness lingers in the back of your mind.

When things are finally complete, the three of you divide up a feast of healthy and delicious meals into various containers. You help House carry his bounty down to his car while Wilson loads the dishwasher and tidies up the messy kitchen. 

“Have a good evening. I appreciate the supervision and dishes you prepared.” Smiling, you wait for House to reply.

He tilts his head to the side leaning into his cane a little. “I expect nothing less from an apprentice such as yourself. You are better than Wilson, you do what I ask instead of dithering about.” Despite his bark, it is clear that House is trying to give you a compliment.

“I’ll make it a point to not relay that information to James.” You reply as you step away from House’s open trunk having finished placing the last tote bag full of food.

“I’d certainly hope so.” House is grinning at you before shuts the trunk. With a grunt he opens the driver door and plops in. Leaning back out towards you, he catches your attention, “This stays between us.” And with that he pulls his left leg in and shuts the door as the ignition turns on.

Smirking back, you salute him before turning away from his car. He nods as the car pulls out of the spot and heads towards the exit. You aren’t one hundred percent certain, but you are pretty sure he gave you a slight but genuine smile back. . . . you will have to collect more data before coming to a conclusion.

Once back in the condo, you help Wilson with the clean-up and the two of you finalize your schedule for the week. Wilson groans as he double checks his work schedule, “Oh shit, I forgot we have outreach on Saturday morning. I’ll have to attend that until after lunch. We can meet up afterwards, it is close to a really nice coffee shop that you’d like.”

The concept of a coffee shop that you’d enjoy piques your interest and you agree to meet Wilson at it to enjoy the ambiance of it.

Sunday evening eventually leads the two of you back towards your place for supper, Keith time and the end of the weekend. Monday morning the two of you head off to work in your respective directions and with a familiar routine, Wilson joins House for poker on Wednesday night while you attend the art class. Thursday is date night at a place which is neither amazing nor disappointing, a sort of Asian-fusion place that can’t quite seem to decide what it was going for. However, it doesn’t detract from the fact that, you enjoy the regularity of a Thursday evening out.

In a rare instance of distance, Wilson spends Friday night at his place, the outreach is at a local high school that is closer to his condo than your apartment. He also has to be there by eight at the latest and he has to pick up items from PPTH that Foreman forgot to put in his car earlier in the day. Never one to refuse to help, Wilson agreed to run into work to pick up some of the items, it also would allow him to check that House is not avoiding him and his outreach obligation by hiding in his office.

With a Friday night alone, you make sure to call you best friend in Saskatoon and the two of you catch up while a load of laundry tumbles away. You still can’t believe that things seem to be going well and you run over your putative itinerary to present to Wilson tomorrow for the New York trip in two weeks.

A meow and paw to the nose, is more than enough to rouse you on Saturday morning, but you note the absence of a certain oncologist in your bed. Wilson had sent you a text before you even got up; it gave detailed directions to the coffee shop and also asked if you’d be willing to get there ahead of time to secure a table.

It isn’t an issue, and you spend the lazy morning being a blob with Keith. Finally, just after noon, you pack up your laptop and a book or two to read and make your way to the location. The coffee shop is in the slightly newer part of town, the area where you are considering moving once your lease is up. The outside is rather unremarkable, but the inside looks like it is straight out of the nineteen sixties or seventies. Dark wood paneling décor, kitschy clocks cover the walls mixed with retro signs and advertisements. On top of it, it has an almost Swiss ski chalet feel with scalloped wood accents and lots of plants throughout. The lighting at first looks original but upon closer inspection, you can tell it is new, just designed to appear vintage. The sound of soft lounge/elevator music plays in the background and you finally survey the tables and available seating. 

Even with Wilson’s suggestion, it is quite crowded! You are able to find a single open table, two bench seats with two chairs across from them. Briefly, you hope there is a table for two open, but the rest are taken by a mix of couples and solo individuals, typing away on laptops with huge noise cancelling headphones. Something about their technology almost strips away the overall aesthetic of the space. Gingerly, you make your way over the open table and slide into the bench portion of the table and put your back next to you after placing your coat on the chair across from you. At least you are making an effort to indicate that someone will be joining you in the future.

Spot reserved, you return to the counter and order an Americano and half of a bagel with cream cheese and lox. The college aged barista takes your order and a few minutes later you are sipping a lovely French roast of Brazilian beans and nibbling at your bagel. You look up to see a woman approaching your table. She has a satchel held closely to her chest as she keeps looking around before making a final decision to step up to your table.

“Excuse me, you seem to be the only person at this table. Do you mind sharing it with me? I can’t seem to find another open spot.” Her voice is firm yet slightly nervous. Taking a sip of coffee to wash down the bagel you clear your throat before replying.

“Not at all. I’m just waiting for someone to join me, so I just need to save one spot.” You reply to her and she relaxes greatly. 

“Thank you so much. I just have so much work I’d like to get done today and I needed to get out of my home office!” She smiles at you as she unslings the bag from her shoulder and plops it on the table diagonal from you. 

While she heads to the counter to place her order, if gives you a chance to observe her, for a reason that you can’t quite identify. She returns with a mocha latte, and a large peanut butter cookie. Her hair is dark brown and shoulder length with a bit of a natural wave and seems to match her dark brown eyes. You smile politely at her across the table before returning your attention to your coffee. 

“I’ve never seen you here before. Have you just moved to the neighborhood?” The woman has done the one thing you absolutely hate. Small talk with strangers. Trapped and feeling like you have no escape you reply to her as quickly as possible – that you aren’t from the neighborhood and that your boyfriend suggested the place, he’s doing some sort of outreach for work until one or so.

She nods in reply while sipping her drink which leaves a thin foam mustache across her upper lip before dabbing at it with a napkin. “Your boyfriend has good taste then, this is an excellent coffee shop, one of the best in Princeton for sure.” You had hoped you would be able to escape the small talk, but it seems your reply has only emboldened her friendliness!

Choosing your words carefully, you speak, “That is good to know, I’m considering moving to this area, but I’m unsure if I should continue to rent or to find a place to buy.”

The woman’s eyes light up as she vibrates with excitement. “Oh, how exciting! I’m actually a real estate agent. Not only do I live a few blocks from here, but I have several properties in the area to sell!” Between energetic nibbles at her cookie between sips of her latte she explains all of the options of the neighborhood. Unable to mount a defense, you find yourself nodding along as she bombards you with the average square footage of each type of property in the vicinity, even pulling out a few pamphlets from her bag. You focus on her professional yet understated outfit, khaki pants, a white blouse with a brown cardigan over it. She occasionally plays with her hair as she excitedly describes the difference between two different townhouses based on the size of their tree lawns and backyards.

As small pile of literature has built up before you and when she is finally done, she smiles sweetly as she pulls out a business card. “By the way, I forgot to introduce myself. I’m Bonnie. All the info is on my card.”

You examine the small thick cardstock between your fingers.

**Bonnie Wilson**

**_Senior Residential Real Estate Agent_ **

**_Trenton Hills Inc._ **

**_Licensed in New Jersey and Pennsylvania_ **

It goes on to list her phone number, email and all that other banal information.

You look back up her and you briefly wonder if she’s related to Wilson, and then you realize that isn’t possible. He has two brothers. And even if she were a cousin or distant relation, well, his last name is common. Or at least common enough that there are likely lots of Wilsons in Jersey alone.

“Well, thanks for all the information. I – ah – well I’m not quite ready to look for a place to move just yet. It is all very intimidating.” You aren’t sure where you are going with this, but she gives off a feeling that she’s a very honest person and you are going to hear more advice from her whether you want to or not.

She laughs lightly as she plays with her hair, “You remind me of my ex. He was always so busy with work that he never gave real estate much thought.” At the mention of ex, you focus on her hands. It is unclear what sort of ex she is referring to as you notice a very sparkly wedding ring on her left hand. It has a woven pattern that wraps around the silver ring and it looks expensive. It is the only item of hers that really stands out as such, perhaps the rest of her clothing is equally expensive, but without seeing the original tags or labels you don’t know.

You feel an odd need to defend this ‘ex’, “I don’t know if it is that unusual to be intimidated by real estate. I mean, when work keeps you occupied, there is something nice about being able to call maintenance to fix it and it is covered under the cost of your rent.”

She sighs and smiles at you, “Oh, that’s what having a list of repair firms is for. I can guarantee that I’d never worry about fixing something in my own house. I know who to call and I trust each and every one of them. I learned that from my ex as well; just because someone has a medical degree doesn’t mean he’s a natural handy man - even though doctors are intelligent people.” She nibbles at her cookie a little more before continuing. “He once came home from an ‘emergency page’ which turned out to be a late-night air hockey tournament and then tried to fix a leaking faucet. In the morning, I found him asleep on the bathmat still in his clothing from the day before.”

Bonne sighs and there is more than a hint of disappointment as she thinks about this man. 

You nervously fidget – the mention of an emergency page being an air hockey tournament sounds familiar to you . . . like something a certain doctor would do for fun and to annoy other people. Though it could be another hospital, like Princeton General or another department at Princeton-Plainsboro. But then, there is her last name. But she’s clearly married – so again, she could have married another Wilson. Or maybe it is her maiden name? You have no plans of marriage, but you know you’d never change your last name at this point in your life.

Bonnie finishes her drink, “My apologies, I seem to have slipped into thinking about things that happened almost a decade ago.” She waves her hand with the wedding ring before you, “I remarried a few months ago, to another real estate agent at the firm. It may seem unusual, but I enjoy working at the same place as my partner. We work on different teams; he’s focused on commercial properties while I handle residential but there is something reassuring about driving into work together and heading home together.” She nods confidently, “I found a sweet, handsome Jewish guy and he even accepted the dog from my last relationship. Sometimes things really work out.” 

Bonnie is beaming back at you, “Well, enough about me. It is clear you are new to the area and you’ve got a boyfriend.”

Even with her doing most of the talking, you feel oddly, like you are sitting on the hot seat. “There isn’t that much to tell. I work as a staff scientist at a large multinational company for the crop science division. You could say that I work for ‘evil’, but it is a decent place to work. I moved to the east coast less than a year ago and I’m settling into the area. All in all, Princeton is a nice place. I’ve been to Philly a few times and soon I’ll make it up to New York.”

The soft ping of your phone lets you know that you have a new text. You excuse yourself for a moment as you check it. Of course, it is from Wilson, he just finished up at the high school and he’s on his way over to the café. He also sent along his order – a coffee with cream and a cheese Danish. 

You return to the counter to place his order and return to the table with his items as well as a refill for your coffee. Bonnie notices your additional items. Her eyes narrow as she looks at the Danish, “Your boyfriend likes cheese Danishes? Interesting.”

Unsure where this is going you can only shrug in reply, “It is news to me, he’s generally more of a scone/muffin guy. I guess he must like the ones this place has.”

The jingle of the bell on the door announces the arrival of Wilson and he quickly looks around. You wave him over to your table and he turns walking directly towards you. You can’t help but smile at him, he’s wearing his grey suit, with the blue gingham shirt and one of his blue and orange striped ties. It is a look that just, looks good on him.

Wilson speaks as he approaches the table, “Wow, it is crowded in here! Thanks for saving me a spot.” And as he slides onto the bench with you, he and Bonnie both gasp at each other at the same time which was quickly followed by both of them saying each other’s name simultaneously.

The stare at each other in shock for a moment, “Bonnie, what are you doing here?” Wilson seems confused and he glances at you before running his hand through his hair, clearly uncomfortable.

“I was going to do some work, so I came down the street. She was kind enough to let me share the table with her since it is so crowded . . .” Bonnie gestured to you as Wilson then looks rapidly back and forth at you and her as he tries to form words.

All of the facts that had been tugging at your brain solidify in that instance. Bonnie Wilson indeed has a relation to James Wilson – she has to be one of his ex-wives! With this eureka moment you blurt out your realization, “Holy shit! Your one of James’ ex-wives.” 

Bonnie and Wilson’s eyes are both looking at you, mouths agape in collective surprise. Wilson then sighs as he hangs his head, ruffling his hair one more time. “This was not how I had intended to introduce you to my past relationships.” He looks meek and guilty, for a situation that he had no actual control over. You can’t help but reach out with your left hand to give his leg a reassuring squeeze. 

“You had no idea that she’d be here today. Besides, if I had issues with your past relationships, I wouldn’t have kept dating you back when you told me.” You feel confident in this reassuring statement to him and he smiles slightly back at you.

Bonnie seems to be a little slower on the recovery as her brain reboots from the shock. She sips her drink to wet her throat, “I had no idea you were seeing someone.” Her face is slowly returning to normal, but she still seems thrown off at the idea of Wilson being in a relationship. “I mean, you moved into the condo with House last year. I had assumed that was, well, a sign that you had given up on relationships.”

Wilson grimaces for an instant before regaining his composure with a taught smile. “House living with me was never meant to be permanent. He just needed to have support after rehab. And it may have been a petty act to prevent Cuddy from purchasing the loft.” He looks embarrassed at the admission of clearly juvenile behavior but in the context of his friendship with House it makes sense.

“Once House moved back into his place a few of us gave speed dating a try.” Wilson shrugs and looks at you before looking back across the table at Bonnie. “The rest; you can figure that out.”

Bonnie nods as she figures out you haven’t been dating that long. “I see.” She turns to you and then asks the question that is bubbling up in her, “How’d you figure out who I was so quickly? I haven’t seen James since I sold him the condo and it isn’t like I gave you that much information.”

You tilt your head as you wonder how to respond. It was pretty obvious as she added various pieces of evidence which slowly made it easy to guess she had been with Wilson. “It wasn’t one thing _per se_ , it was the various facts. First, I noticed your last name on your card, but I know that James only has brothers so you couldn’t be a close relation. You then mentioned an ex who was busy, and not into property and a doctor. I sense you were referring to the antics of House when you described an air hockey tournament at a hospital. Lastly, you casually mentioned you had remarried a Jewish guy. How the two of you reacted was all that I needed to complete the puzzle.”

Wilson laughs to himself as Bonnie squints her eyes at you. “Wow, I have to admit, I’m not that surprised you figured it out. Details don’t really escape you?” He gives you a half hug and you blush slightly.

“Oh my God. You are dating the chill female version of House.” Bonnie has this look of realization as she gestures across the table. Wilson sighs, “Not quite, that was more when I was with Amber. She and House were frequently at each other’s throats fighting for my attention and I had to mediate them.”

Wilson smiles softly to himself before continuing, “This time, I’m the one who is learning.” He looks down at the table not focusing on anything in particular. “I’m learning how to give someone space and I’m not sure what House has said to her, but the two of them get along despite House’s early antics.” Only then does Wilson turn to you and give your hand a squeeze, before looking back at Bonnie.

She relaxes, “I see. It would take a certain type of person to get along with House.” Her voice isn’t mocking you; it is a statement of fact and you understand that much from what you’ve learned about House. He clearly would have been difficult to deal with if his antics were much more intense. 

Wilson sips his coffee and gestures across the table to Bonnie. “Enough about me, what about you?” He smiles and quickly becomes a master of small talk, so you don’t need to.

Bonnie’s face lights up in delight. “Work is going quite well! At the beginning of the year, I was promoted to a Senior Agent within the firm. Things started out a bit rocky when I got my license, but I really found my footing about two years ago.” 

Smiling, Wilson congratulates her on her promotion with a toast from his coffee cup. He inquires what else she’s been up to. 

“Oh, I can’t believe I forgot to state the obvious.” She holds up her left hand while pointing to the wedding ring on her finger, “I got married back in October. To one of the commercial agents from the office, Daniel Simpson.” Her face is radiant as she describes him. You only catch some of the information as she speaks rapidly. He’s actually a few years younger than her, but attended Rutgers, earned an MBA and he’s on the board of a charitable organization. He even took a pastry course, and he makes it a point to bake something special every other week!

The entire time Wilson listens to her intently and knows exactly when to ask her for more information or to steer her conversation forward. You watch how his shoulders have slowly been sliding back into a relaxed posture and you can tell he’s happy for her. Their marriage may have ended, but he still cares about her as a person; it makes you feel more comfortable with him. You’d rather have a partner who still keeps a genuine connection with others than bitterly stoke feelings of anger and discontent. Really, most relationships should end on at least neutral terms in your opinion, but you could be a bit of an idealist in this regard. 

By the time the conversation is over, you feel oddly at ease even though you just met an ex-wife of your boyfriend. The coffee shop is still hopping, and it would be polite to head out. Bonnie notices a smaller table that just became available and is clearly a regular as she gestures towards the barista who makes an ‘okay’ sign with her hands understanding the order that was just non-verbally communicated towards her.

She politely excuses herself to finally begin the work she had intended to do in the first place. Wilson gives her a half hug and lets her know it was a nice surprise to see her. You shake her hand; she has a firm grip that is just right – neither aggressive nor weak.

Everything settled the two of you exit the shop to a crisp and sunny afternoon, snow reflecting the bright blue sky. Wilson heads to his car parked a block away. He needs to swing by PPTH to drop off a few items and he’ll meet you at your place. You wave towards him before turning to your car parked behind the café.

* * *

Using the fob to unlock his car doors, Wilson sighs in relief as he sits down in his car for a moment. He can’t believe he had bumped into Bonnie at the coffee shop. It has been years since he had been there, and he only suggested it because it was the closest place to the high school where the career outreach event was today. After he and Bonnie had separated, she had made it clear that she wasn’t returning to this neighborhood and the house they had shared. She had even gone as far as to move to Trenton for a few years as when she learned about his marriage to Julie. 

It could have been a disaster having her meet his girlfriend with little warning, but instead, she was the one who figured out who she was almost before he even got there. Wilson would be lying if he said he wasn’t concerned about Bonnie’s foray into real estate. She is a sweet and sensitive individual – who doesn’t have the thickest skin – nor is she pushy enough to really convince a client to make a sale or purchase. Yet, it is clear that she’s found her place and he’s happy to see her with a partner who also makes her happy.

He reflects on how quickly he became distracted in their relationship; he was just about to be promoted to department head when he admitted to her about his infidelities. She wasn’t even surprised, if anything she seemed relieved to know that he had been drifting from her for months. It was clear that as much as she ‘needed’ him to ‘save’ her, they were never a good match. He thinks back to how he had met her after he had moved to Princeton and was at a hospital fundraiser at a local art gallery. She was one of the gallery employees and they struck up a conversation next to the cheeses on the table for the attendees to eat while rapidly becoming inebriated. Bonnie was cute and he could smell her discontent with her current job. He finally was feeling confident to date again after what happened with Sam at the end of med school and the before his specialization at UPenn.

It would only be a matter of months before he had moved into her apartment and a year after they had met, he was at Tiffany’s purchasing their matching wedding rings. His second wedding was much more storybook, than his to Sam. She was never into the nostalgia and attention to tiny details for a single day in her life; even though it was his first, they kept things to the bare minimum to meet family expectations.

Really, what was he thinking when he married Bonnie? He almost knew he’d disappoint her in regard to the emotional component, while exceeding her expectations in financial support. He made sure she had her own bank account, depositing a portion of his paycheck into it each month and let her have free reign on decorating the house allowing him to eliminate another potential source of conflict.

On top of cheating on her with a now departed member of the nursing staff, she would also lose him to House after his infarction. As House lashed out at Stacy, thus driving her away from him, Wilson had no choice but to slide into her place as his best friend’s major support. After a rather heated argument when he arrived home past midnight, exhausted, he shifted the blame from House’s co-dependence on him to his sexual infidelity towards her. House was a major source of conflict in their relationship, but Wilson felt his only way out was to put the blame on himself. As soon as she heard the very words escape his lips, she declared their relationship was over. House was bad enough, but to cheat on her with another person at work was unforgivable in their relationship.

It all seems like it was a lifetime ago and he parks his car in the garage close to the elevator. He removes the large bin full of left-over materials and awkwardly hits the elevator button with his left elbow. Turning to the hallway towards diagnostics, the sound of swing music fills the empty corridor. He can see the lights on in House’s office and he’s seated in his mid-century modern chair while reading a stack of papers. Wilson places the bin in the main part of the office for Foreman to deal with on Monday before he steps into House’s office.

“Hey. Working on the weekend?” Wilson is curious what would motivate House to work on the weekend without a case. And after he had attended the outreach this morning and didn't make an ass of himself in front of the impressionable young students.

House looks up from the paper in his hands, “Wilson! I didn’t realize you were here. One of your bald-headed wards take a turn for the worse?”

Rolling his eyes and hands-on hips without him even thinking about it, he scoffs at the older man. “No problems in oncology today. I just had to drop off some stuff for Foreman. Do you have a case that your team isn’t aware of?”

Shaking the paper in his hands House declares that he’s reviewing the job candidates. He then sits up, swinging his feet to the floor, inviting Wilson to sit on the footrest across from him as he gives Wilson his first impressions on the candidate pool.

They chat about the candidates a bit before Wilson tells House about his unexpected encounter with Bonnie. And his girlfriend. House laughs heartily that only Wilson would have created a situation like that by accident. He gives describes the events in great detail to House’s delight. Suddenly, his phone pings. 

“Oh shit! I’ve lost track of time. I should be heading to her place now.” Wilson panics a little as he unlocks the phone. The message leaves him stunned for a millisecond before he laughs. It is from his girlfriend.

**_When you are done gossiping with House, let me know when you are on your way over. I need to make a quick trip to the grocery store. Laters._ **

House asks him if his girlfriend is asking him what he’s up to right now. He smirks as he turns the phone to House to read the message.

“Shit. She’s good.” House’s eyes sparkle in respect for her. The two men return to the original topic at hand the job search before House shoos Wilson out of his domain to finish reading the application packages.

Feeling content and calm, Wilson makes his way over to her place, just as she’s unpacking a few items into her small panty. He hugs her from behind, sneaking in a kiss. “I know you’ll just think I’m being neurotic after today’s events, but I love you.”

She pats his hands with hers before she turns to face him. “I know you do. But before we get distracted, I have some putative plans for our trip to the city. Let’s look over them so we can finalize things.”

Her smile is slight, but he knows it is honest and it warms his heart. “Certainly Miss.” And he makes a dramatic bow before her, “I’m sure that you’ve come up with many different ideas that are all good.”

The two of them settle onto her couch under one of the blankets as she pulls up her tablet and a notebook with three different potential lists of things to do. Together, they look at all of the options and together they decide on a visit to the Met, a late lunch at a place that Eva suggested, a small shopping complex near a boutique hotel that has open rooms and then a late dinner. 

Things sorted out, he stretches out on her couch, and she snuggles on top of him. Innocent cuddling slowly gives way to more adult activities before supper. Even though his stomach makes a rumbling sound to remind him to each soon, he lazily runs his fingers through her hair. Wilson smiles to himself. Life is alright.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've become sympathetic to poor Matt Jones, and Eva is doing her best to try to keep their friendship a friendship. She's pulled the classic 'oh shit, I've made a mistake and now I'm going to flee from it' move. Poor Matt. All of her non-verbal signs point to her wanting to take things back to where they were before getting involved.
> 
> House lives on details from others, but he's less than forthcoming about his own life. He would love to string Wilson along to just taunt him even though his best friend is smart enough to figure things out. Wilson gets few chances to really relish moments of vulnerability and openness from House.
> 
> Ah yes, I finally worked in an appearance by the character that I could only think was mismatched for Wilson, Bonnie. I always got the feeling that she wasn't quite on the same intellectual level as him nor any of the core group of PPTH - House, Cuddy, and the special three in diagnostics - Chase, Cameron and Foreman. When Sam appears in the show, its clear that Wilson wants to be with another intellectual, but Sam and Amber just overwhelmed him. I was never fond of the plot line where Wilson gets back together with Sam. It made his character stagnant and he never developed past that point, only to suffer in single silence.


	38. non-Valentine's day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ah, the story has finally fallen behind the calendar year and the dreaded Hallmark holiday passes by unobserved by our reader to her delight.
> 
> However, she accepted and spearheaded the compromise of a non-Valentine's Valentine's day in New York, so she might be using the letter of the law to defeat the spirit of the law. And go to the Met.
> 
> Just more banal drama, character development and fun times.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had thought I'd have more time when my work schedule returned to 'normal' but that has not been the case. I've fallen behind in my fun writing of this fic and some other meta writing because things have gotten busy.
> 
> I have posted the sexy side chapter under the 'carefully calibrating' series. If you want to read them seamlessly, switch to chapter 8 of 'cc' when Wilson hails the cab after dinner.

After the accidental encounter with Bonnie, Wilson turns up the level of affection with you. It starts out subtle, sneaking in additional touches, speaking softly to you. After about a week of this, you finally have to point it out to him. That he might be overcompensating for something. The conversation ends up a bit more stressful that you had intended as he sighs loudly while ruffling his hair before throwing his arms up. 

You are shocked and freeze in place, unable to take a step back from the situation. This was not what you had intended to have happen on a chill Friday night in February. Hesitantly, you approach him and hug him from behind. His body relaxes in response to your touch even if he isn’t willing to speak just yet.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you upset.” You give him a good additional squeeze before continuing, “It is just, I’m feeling a little overwhelmed by you after we ran into Bonnie.” He sighs and brings his hands on top of yours around his chest. Wilson sighs again and moves your hands so he can turn to face you. His eyes are jumpy, he’s trying to read you and you feel uncomfortable with his gaze, not used to navigating apologies in the context of a relationship.

Wilson then reaches out to touch your cheek with his left hand, “I just want to let you know that I care about you. That Bonnie was in the past.” He looks at you intently, trying to convey the degree of his love towards you.

You think about how to best address this. Perhaps it is best to be a little awkward but as clear as possible? It takes a few minutes of rambling, but eventually you are able to convey your point that when you told Wilson previously that you liked your distance and space this is a situation where you are feeling uncomfortable. Not that you have any issue with someone like Bonnie, just that you trust Wilson, and you don’t want him feeling like he needs to prove that he’s 100 percent dedicated to you.

He seems a little shocked that he was ‘overcompensating’ and slowly the two of you unpack a situation of muddy communication. It is likely that both of you ended up finding safety in a natural default setting to react the encounter with Bonnie. Wilson kept adding a little extra to reassure you, while you got more annoyed at the extra, trying to play it cool.

The two of you feel much better by the end of the conversation, but exhausted, and head to bed for rather chaste spooning instead of orgasms. The two of you talk softly to each other continuing to release the tension that you had built. The words slowly dry up and you drift off to sleep.

Saturday morning is full; a trip to the Farmer’s Market and meeting House and Sal for an afternoon movie. The movie is some avant-garde European co-production that used jazz music as the inspiration, but honestly, you were a little lost. House and Sal meanwhile are glued to the screen or perhaps more accurately their ears were glued to the speakers, recognizing references and occasionally whispering back and forth about something. 

Thankfully, a glance at Wilson revealed another individual who was also looking a little lost and you are able to exchange a knowing glance. After the movie, the four of you go to the White Lion for dinner. House and Sal slowly fall into a musician rabbit hole of conversation and they barely notice it when you begin to put on your coat to head out. Despite the fact that neither of you were into the movie, you notice that Wilson and by extension yourself, are in a good mood. Smirking, you gently tug on Wilson’s scarf to whisper in his ear that you have some plans for his ‘ties’ tonight. He has a quick gasp of surprise before he pulls you into a hug, replying that he’d be more than okay with your proposed plan.

The enjoyable evening activities leave you pleased, and suddenly it is Sunday evening, and the work week is about to begin again. 

* * *

Wilson has eagerly come to accept waking up at his girlfriend’s place on a Monday morning. It feels like a solid thing – something that is stable and consistent. Between her dedication to cold cereal for breakfast on a weekday and Keith’s alarm clock ability to wake them up for kibble is nice. Wilson likes nice. Even if it has a bad rap. He roots around in the cramped closet space that she has given him, and he doesn’t want to let her know how his shirts and ties have slowly been squeezing themselves into a limited area. The forecast calls for another grey and dreary winter day; he defaults to the combination of the grey suit with his well-worn maroon sweater vest, cream and salmon shirt and his red and gold tie. 

A quick kiss and half-hug along with a pat on Keith’s head and he’s out the door bundled up to begin another week of work at Princeton-Plainsboro Teaching Hospital. Wilson stops to chat with Susan; they gossip about the upcoming meeting to review the early candidates for several open positions, including the part-time one in the Department of Diagnostic Medicine. House will have to sit through the entire meeting, even though he’s not hiring anyone else. The committee a few years ago, and with the blessings of the board, told House he could apply some of his required Clinic hours to being an external committee member on other hires. Wilson still has never admitted to House that the vote by the board was unanimous, seeing that House has never been interested enough to actually look over the publicly available minutes.

Wilson glances at his watch to check the time; he wants to catch House before the meeting starts at nine-thirty and is able to smoothly exit Susan’s office with plenty of time. Knocking on the glass door frame at the same time he opens it, Wilson sees House shuffling a huge stack of files on his desk.

“Hey, all prepared for your meeting today?” He makes sure to give his best friend his most supportive and sympathetic look.

House’s eyes hold his in place as he is paused mid-shuffle. “I’d be a little bit more prepared if you weren’t interrupting me organizing them.” House then makes an annoyed grunt and turns back to ordering the messy paperwork into a slightly less messy tower.

Silently, Wilson shoves his hands into his pockets and saunters a few steps closer to House. It has been some time that he’s seen a pissy and frustrated looking House. Raising his eyebrows in interest, Wilson softly speaks, shrugging his shoulders just a little for emphasis. “Let me guess, either your fellow colleagues have ranked idiots as their top choice candidates, or they’ve fucked up the paperwork.” Wilson looks at his best friend waiting for confirmation.

“Oh god Wilson, you have no idea! Those guys in surgery are clearly morons and didn’t read anyone’s CV past the first two pages. I also noticed that they preferred candidates who used Times New Roman as a font as opposed to all other serif fonts and someone even placed a candidate third – when the CV was in COMIC SANS!” House ends his statement with a sweeping gesture with both hands before he stands up. Leaning back, he takes another breath while rubbing his face with his rough hands and sighs dramatically. 

“Wow, did you run the stats on these observations?” Wilson makes sure to keep his tone playful and quirks up a single eyebrow for emphasis.

House turns away and begins to pick up a huge tower of files along with his own notes – actual notes he took on actual paper about the candidates! “Nah, I thought about it, but then realized it was a waste of my time. Instead, I just read each of the files and went ahead and ranked them according to the rubric.” 

It is now time for Wilson to give him a little friendly teasing, “What is this? Greg House following actual protocol?”

House makes another annoyed noise, but his clear eyes betray his intent. He distracts Wilson from further chances to say something about how House has ‘grown’ after rehab and orders Wilson to help him by carrying most of the files.

Of course, Wilson obliges and the two of them chat about how House feels about the candidates for his department without naming names; House actually maintains confidentiality by speaking in broad terms to capture the depth and breadth of the pool. A small soft smile of pride and even a little awe is on House’s scruffy face.

The pile lands on the conference room table with a large thud and the two men nod to each other before exchange a brief ‘see you at lunch’. Feeling proud of House, Wilson strolls back down the hallway to his office. As he walks by Diagnostics, he looks at team, running a differential. Without House. Foreman is up at the white board fiddling with a marker between his left fingers while the rest of them toss out ideas. House is letting the kiddies run free. He lets his eyes linger over the group as they discuss a patient’s current vitals and what tests to run next.

Thirteen is as engaged as ever, but a sadness pulls at Wilson, the only reason House is participating on the hiring committee is so that they can find a replacement for her. What does the universe have to be such a dick to people? A young professional woman will never have the career he’s had all because she lost the genetic lottery. 

Wilson does some consults, checks in with patients and settles into his office for paperwork just before noon. With a bravado that only House could summon, his office door swings open with a shout. “Wilson! Lunch! Now!” Not even waiting for him to reply, his best friend has turned on his left foot to lead Wilson out of the office by example. 

“Jeez, at least give me a chance to finish writing my sentence!” Wilson’s tone is more teasing that an objection. He knows exactly where they are headed, and he can easily catch up. 

“Nope!” House shouts back as he walks as quickly as possible to the elevator, “I have to be back in the conference room by one and I want to make sure I can enjoy my Ruben and take a shit before dealing with candidates of equal quality.”

Holding his tongue, Wilson scrambles to make sure he has his keys and wallet and dashes out the door to catch up to House. The taller man is agitated; it is obvious that the morning session focused on candidates for other departments. More than likely, House tried to play it cool but once he got invested in advocating to interview someone, he went all in. Wilson has to make the split-second decision to ask upfront or let House tell him.

For a moment Wilson thinks back to pre-rehab House and he shudders internally. “So, a frustrating meeting this morning?”

House jabs at the elevator button with his cane as he leans back and gives Wilson the ‘I’m so over this bullshit’ look. “Shit Wilson, only you would use such an understated description as ‘frustrating’.” The elevator dings and the doors open to reveal several members of the hiring committee, likely also on their way to the cafeteria.

Wilson and House turn to each other simultaneously in that moment of awkward silence. Taking the lead, Wilson steps into the elevator feeling the tension building as he smiles to the rest of the occupants, some who are on the board with him.

“You think the Flyers are going to win against the Habs tonight?” Wilson nods his head to House as he stands next to him, their backs to everyone else.

“I dunno. I think the Flyers have several people on the DL and the Habs are solid.” House strokes his chin as a faint playful smile appears.

Nodding back to his friend, Wilson keeps the banal conversation going stating that he’s glad he’s not betting on any games currently. 

The ding of the elevator announces their floor and as quickly as possible the two of them make a beeline towards the cafeteria, trying to place as much distance between them and already upset egos.

Only after Wilson has paid for their lunches; the standard Ruben for House, a shared plate of fries and the heart healthy special of the for him; are they able to hunker down in the corner as House goes to town on the process so far.

It is a novel moment for Wilson, here he is, sitting in the café, listening to House rant, but to have a well-reasoned and non-House critique of the process so far. He nods, agrees with and slurps his fountain drink in support of the diagnostician. The only complaint that seems personal is with the surgeon, Hourani, whom House has never gotten along with and in a way, Wilson is reassured that House’s staunch opposition to anything the man does. Their conflict goes back to when House was first hired (before Wilson) and he still has never learnt the true reason the two men despise each other so strongly. Even Cuddy doesn’t know what happened and the event remains shrouded in mystery. . . rare for something involving House.

As their time wraps up, Wilson is able to inquire about the team working without House as they return the trays and stroll back to their offices. “I dunno really Wilson. It just seemed okay to let the team flounder around a bit and figure things out without me. It. It kinda feels nice.”

Wilson laughs, “Nice? How rather diplomatic of you to say that.” He elbows the taller man who scoffs at his comment. 

“Oh, come on. You are the living personification of nice. You are worried if I learn to behave your golden boy status will be revoked.” House has that shit eating grin, in part because he knows the ‘golden boy’ image is far from reality and House can easily tally the number of times he’s done morally questionable things at PPTH.

Wilson opts to change the topic, “See you later. Good luck with the rest of the meeting and I hope you get to pick the candidates you want to interview.”

“Later Wilson.” And with that House has waved half-heartedly back towards him as he enters his office to pick up his favorite large, oversized tennis ball and bounce it off the wall.

The rest of Wilson’s afternoon is Clinic duty. Nothing like a broken collarbone from slipping on some ice as well as university students looking for excuses for missing exams. By time he’s done, he swings by the diagnostics office to see the team wrapping up for the time being and the House’s stuff still in his office but no House. They must still be in the meeting. Damn.

He sighs and will have to wait to hear about Eva’s fate tomorrow and goes into autopilot to head home for the evening. Er, to his girlfriend’s place for the evening. Which feels like home. Which he really shouldn’t mention to her yet. After their post-Bonnie conversation, he knows it is best to give her some distance but make it clear when she puts a little too much distance between them.

Keith greets him at the door, and he’s roped into chopping some veggies for lazy curry. After dinner they settle down and talk about their days and she agrees with House’s outrage at a CV that was in COMIC SANS. When he asks her what font is best for a resume, she replies she’s a big fan of Garamond; hundreds of years of its use is more than enough for her to choose it.

They start flirting on the couch about fonts of all things and she tries to tickle him, which quickly escalates to adult events.

* * *

Tuesday morning, House wakes up feeling – feeling exhausted. Not because of his leg. No, this is from that **_insanely_** long meeting about short-listing candidates for various positions. How does Wilson deal with office politics like this? How has Wilson sat on the board all these years and not wanted to stab a sharp object into his eye or even better yet into other doctors at PPTH? Sure, Wilson can be very patient, but he knows his best friend does not love all the other doctors and can tear a few of them down with little feelings of remorse.

Yawning loudly, he stretches out in his large rustic bed and recalls how he was able to get four out of the five short-list candidates for his position and he was able to improve at least two other lists for the better. It would have been three if he hadn’t lost his temper with Hourani – god that man is a moron. He’d been able to strongly -er advocate for a few people with lots of logic and facts. Yet when they got to the one vacancy in surgery, he just flipped out and had a huge pissing contest with his least favorite member of the OR staff. 

Oh well. You can’t win them all. 

At least Wilson will be happy, Eva Forrester made the cut and will be called in for an interview in a week or two.

When he gets into the office, he immediately joins his team who update them on their current patient. Foreman updates him from the board, and he sips his coffee listening carefully while watching the rest of the team. Taub and Thirteen have body language that they agree with the anal retentive and remarkably dull neurologist, while Chase chews on a wooden stirrer, clearly in disagreement. 

After Foreman concludes the update, House nods. “Good. So far it looks like you guys are on top of things, but I feel like we’re missing something.” 

Thirteen and Taub turn to him slightly puzzled. House places his mug down on the table with a loud clank. “Chase. What do you think?”

Chase immediately pops up from his default relaxed position. “What do I think?” House will never stop being both amused and comforted by Chase’s childlike expression at times like this.

“Yeah.” House gazes directly at the younger man as his demeanor completely shifts to a serious attitude.

Confidently, Chase speaks, “I think we need to check for a B12 deficiency. I can’t put my finger on it, but something about this case reminds me of something from early in my residency. Unfortunately, it was when I was on rotation in the ER, so I got bumped to the next patient, so I was too busy to learn what happened.”

The next few minutes are full of heated debate which then leads to constructive discussions between the research fellows. Thirteen finally makes the connection between low B12 and the rest of the results and with that, she is out the door with Chase to draw some blood to test for B12 levels.

House silently puts his hands together as he watches Taub and Foreman discuss alternate theories. Just for fun, he makes sure to toss in some zingers to get them riled up. 

Right on time, the main door opens and Wilson strolls in, his white coat stylishly flowing behind him. If there ever was a man whose suaveness and sex appeal immediately increased by a factor of ten when wearing a whitecoat, it was Wilson. Yet his current girlfriend never sees him in it. Realizing he’s started to walk down the path to imagining Wilson’s sex life and it is too early in the morning to do so.

Wilson politely greets them as he goes to pour himself a cup of coffee with his usual splash of cream before settling down across the table from House. Foreman and Taub stick around for only a few brief minutes, quickly reading the room that Wilson is here to talk to House.

“How’s the current case going?” Wilson sips his coffee innocently. 

Feeling pretty good about it, House shrugs his shoulders in a distracted way, “Alright, Chase finally had a brilliant idea, though it took Thirteen to determine the biological question behind the observation. But - I think they’ll get there eventually.”

The perfectly styled hair on Wilson’s head slightly swooshes as he nods along. They discuss the case for a few minutes before Wilson broaches the subject at hand.

“The hiring committee meeting must have gone pretty late last night. When I left you were still here.” The oncologist leans back in his chair assuming a dominant position.

House replies that Wilson had no idea! He doesn’t want to bore Wilson with nitty gritty details, but he does want to torture him a little. So, he talks about the selection of the other short-lists before telling him that Wilson’s colleague will be getting an invite by the end of the business day. Cuddy has to sign off on all of the short-lists before HR can schedule the interview times.

Wilson leans further back in his chair as he gets that soft look in his eyes when he’s happy for someone else; a someone he thinks deserves a ‘good thing’ to happen to them. After returning to a more neutral posture, he ruffles his hair in relief.

“Well, that is welcome news. Though, I think you still broke the confidentiality of the committee by telling me directly.” Wilson’s eyes are smiling at him and House tries to hold a straight face.

“Well, fuck me. The committee should have told me about not talking to my best friend.” House feels a large grin spreading across his face, “I mean, honestly, what else would they expect from me?” And with that Wilson rolls his eyes as he stands up putting his hands on his hips.

“They can only expect so much from you. You are a busy man.” Wilson washes out the mug before putting in with the dirty ones to be loaded into the dishwasher later.

“I am a busy man! I’ve got a department to run!” House has to of course defend himself and Wilson agrees with him. 

“Lunch today? I have some leftover curry from last night.” Wilson looks at him as he pulls open the door.

“Sounds good. I’ll come grab you in your office.” House then slowly stands ready for another cup of coffee.

“Oh, House.” Wilson has paused in midway through the door. He stares back at his best friend almost into the hallway. With complete serious Wilson continues, “By the way. As a member of the board, I also will see the list of the short-list candidates to approve before Cuddy signs off on it. In this case, it is a formality, we always trust the lists that are given to us.”

And in that instance, he can feel the sly power of Wilson; that smug self-assured look that House can only make a scoffing noise back in reply to. Because Wilson timed it perfectly, he allowed himself to linger just long enough to see the look of realization upon House’s own face before he glides out the door his coat fluttering behind him. That little shit, he thinks to himself – is my best friend.

The rest of the day goes as expected. Lunch with Wilson is the usual, and he finds himself wanting to let some of his patients in the clinic eliminate themselves from the gene pool as a result of their free will. Unfortunately, some of them have already successfully reproduced and he fears for the fate of their offspring . . .

He sticks around the monitor the patient with Chase and Taub until around ten, when he figures out what is happening. He’ll give the team until noon tomorrow to tweak the treatment plan before spilling the beans to his fellows.

Wednesday morning, House is woken up with a phone call. Chase excitedly on the phone correctly diagnoses the patient and House tells him to begin the final treatment immediately. Well, no chance to give the Aussie a hard time. As he lays in his bed he stares at the beige ceiling. Despite all of the shit he’s given the younger man over the years, Chase has really grown into being a diagnostician despite his successful diversion in surgery.

House knows Chase is in a way a type of favorite. Not in the number one student best candidate type of way; that would have gone to Cameron and Foreman. Academically, both of them were a touch stronger than Chase. However, when it came to creative solutions and having a good sense of intuition on cases, Chase hands down has beaten the rest of the team. If Thirteen would be staying on longer, she might give him a run for the money but that is not to be.

There is a feeling that House associates with Chase that he doesn’t feel towards the other fellows; current and former. Fondness. House wants to give him a hard time, rile him up, but also when Chase succeeds, he just feels a little prouder when another team member does. He feels like Chase is meant to **_inherit_** something from him.

Inherit, that makes it sound like he wants to give something to Chase. Like he would to a child. No, like a son.

And in that moment staring at his ceiling, House gains additional clarity into his relationship with Chase. Well, he knows what he’ll be talking to Nolan about in their next session.

* * *

With House having no case, Wilson attends Poker Night while you head to an art seminar that is a part of the series of art classes. It gives you a quiet evening alone as Keith snuggles up next to you on the couch as you read before heading to bed.

Wilson is on call tomorrow evening and he is going to sleep over at his place tonight and tomorrow to take care of household chores. Plus, tomorrow is your most loathed holiday, Valentine’s day. You are relieved that Wilson has work so you don’t have to worry about the stress, pressure, and unrealistic expectations it puts on couples. Especially newer couples.

Thursday morning, you send Wilson a text to have a good day and you wish him luck he doesn’t get called in. He replies with a blushing face emoji and a thanks. After work you head to ye olde shopping mall to purchase some cheap and disposable tights. Feeling a little – okay – a lot out of place, you are forced to enter a Hot Topic to buy some fishnet tights. You want the looser ones with the more open patterns and settle on a large diamond pattern with lots of gaps and appear to be a bit easier to rough up and damage. Past experience reminds you that tight knit fishnets are quite robust and may not perform as Wilson is hoping they would.

The clearance rack from one of the generic and dying department stores has a fitted little black dress that is simple. With a modest neckline and a cut that follows your curves and is just tight enough in all the right places and it ends about mid-thigh. Too short to wear in public but perfect in the privacy of a hotel room.

When you return home to a starved Keith you feed him before reheating some leftovers. Wilson rings you just as you finish supper; he just finished his dinner as well and wants to chat as he does a load of laundry.

He’s still trying to figure out what to wear for the weekend as the forecast looks too good to be true, still cold, but no snow meaning he can wear somewhat fancy shoes. The two of you didn’t pick any fancy places so he seems to want to make sure that when he comes over to your apartment Friday night, he’ll have the right clothing packed for the trip. As the two of you double check the forecast together, you settle on a longer plaid wool skirt in navy and maroon and the now famous navy sweater. You can pack another shirt for Sunday, when you realize that, hell, you can wear the little black dress under it on Saturday.

Wilson finally settles on a pair of black wool pants and one of his many blue/orange/yellow stripe shirt combinations. Wardrobe issues resolved; he changes the topic of conversation to how your day was. You decide to omit the sexy apparel purchases and really don’t have much to discuss but he listens with great interest about your banal details. 

When the ball bounces back to his court, Wilson sounds a touch embarrassed as a few new rotating residents gave him some heart shaped cookies. Though after clearing his throat, he admits he may have been wearing pink and red and did participate in Valentine’s activities within the oncology ward. He quickly clarifies that everyone in the department did and it is just a part of his job. You can see him on the other side of the phone line – ruffling his perfectly styled hair as he looks up at you from under those thick brows and lashes. Feeling guilty in enjoying the holiday even though he knows you aren’t fond of it.

The jingle of his washing machine plays in the background and he has to let you go to finish up with a few other chores and making sure that his clothing is at least drying. You let him go with a good night. He tells you the same and hesitates a moment more before he tells you that he loves you. You feel a blush all over your face and quietly reply that you love him too and you will see him tomorrow.

Friday morning you are digging deep into your closet for something fun. Buried deep in the corner is an old gothic lolita skirt dating back to grad school, which has survived many moves and various wardrobe purges and style changes. Feeling fun, you put on an ivory dress shirt, tuck it into the high waisted skirt and add a black crew neck sweater vest over top. For extra poof, you even decide to wear a petticoat underneath, and lastly black and white knit tights. The entire outfit doesn’t stand out too much besides the unique silhouette and likely most people will either say it is interesting or nice. You know the fashion compliments of normies.

The day goes quickly for you and if you were more outwardly emotional, you might skip in the hallways. But you aren’t so you let the slight bounce of the skirt do that for you. And as expected, many co-workers tell you that it looks unique/interesting/nice. At lunch, you get a text from Wilson, since he was on call last night and unfortunately got called in, he wants to get takeout for supper. You let him know you will pick some up from Bombay and he requests the vegetarian thali.

Just after six, with delicious Indian food in hand, you open the door just as Wilson comes out of the stairwell and into the hallway.

“Perfect timing!” He looks exhausted but happy, as he hurries up to not leave you holding the door wide open.

As the two of your take off your coats, he leans in for a quick hug and kiss.

“Wow, that is a very retro skirt!” Wilson is the first person to describe your skirt with a more descriptive vocabulary and you are pleasantly surprised. You can feel a slight flush building on your cheeks.

Smoothing the skirt out on instinct, you look down before replying, “Thanks. You are the first person to complement me on it in a non-normie way.”

He walks up to you, placing his hands on your waist, feeling the structure of the stiff cotton underneath. Softly smiling down at you, his voice becomes quieter. “Oh really?” and he pulls you closer as he leans in for a kiss. 

**_MEOWRL._ **

As yes, the cries of Keith who will not let any sexy flirting time get in the way of his dinner! The two of you sigh as you look at Keith sitting patiently before the both of you.

“I’ll feed Keith.” And you pivot out of his hands as Wilson replies, “I’ll pull out the plates and food.”

With the budding sexual moment on hold, you feed the beast and the clanking of plates and cutlery by Wilson is in the background.

The two of you sit down for dinner as you wonder how you’ll pick things up. After washing the dishes, you head to your bedroom to change out of the skirt and into more comfortable pajama pants. For a reason you don’t even understand, you vocalize this out loud. Wilson seems confused and then surprises you by telling you to wait.

He approaches you again, his hands settling firmly on your waist as you reach out to him. “How about I help you take the skirt off?” his one eyebrow is arched up and a devious look is forming in his chocolate brown eyes.

You don’t bother to replay and instead lean in to kiss him. As the two of you begin to make out, he seems excited by the skirt and makes a gasp of delight when he pulls it back to reveal the petticoat.

Just before eight, the two of you are lounging in your bed. It was a surprise to you; this skirt was never something in your wildest dreams would have been sexy. Wilson senses you are thinking something, specifically about what just happened. He almost reads your mind when he speaks, “I really like that skirt. It was very different than what most women wear and having a petticoat – it made it seem like it was slightly scandalous.” He laughs as he looks at you, “You know in a sort of 1890s sort of way but not really.”

You smile back at him, “Yeah, I think I get what you mean.” A huge yawn escapes from him and you see the bags under his eyes.

“Okay, we need to be on the early train tomorrow. Let’s finish packing our things and get to bed.” You nudge him and he nods along in agreement.

By nine you’ve brushed and fed Keith his last bit of kibble and the two of you are in bed, alarm set for six to get a seven am train north to Penn Station.

You are jolted awake by the sound of your alarm early Saturday morning and for the moment are regretting your decision to catch the earliest train possible. Keith looks dazed and confused as Wilson, with barely open eyes scoops kibble into his bowl before making a direct line for the shower.

Considering you won’t be eating lunch until a little later than normal you make oatmeal and pour yourself a cup of coffee. A fresher, yet decaffeinated Wilson appears wearing his blue and yellow striped shirt under a navy v-neck sweater with black pants. He smiles sweetly thanking you for the oatmeal and coffee and you slip away to perform your minimal routine and put on your unusual dress, sweater skirt combination.

With just enough time to spare, you dump kibble out for Keith, scoop the box and make sure he has two fresh bowls of water before you are off. It is still cold and dark as Wilson drives his trusty Volvo to the train station and parks in the long-term lot. He has his usual overnight bag and you carry a perfectly sized Vivian Westwood satchel you picked up a few years ago in Osaka with a friend. 

The wind blows along the train station platform and you pull yourself close to Wilson trying to steal his warmth and have him act as a wind block. He makes a vocal ‘brrrr’ sound just as the train approaches. Silently, the two of you find your seats, Wilson immediately settling into the the window for support. You lean into his side as the two of you close your eyes and listen to the morning quiet of a commuter train on the weekend.

Just after nine, the train pulls into Penn Station now more awake and trying to reawaken your rusty knowledge of transit in New York. Metrocards are purchased and you soon arrive at the hotel near the Met. Needing to kill a little time before the Met opens, you are able to drop off the overnight bags and have a required cup of coffee in the lobby of the hipster boutique hotel.

Right on time, you enter the Met and of course Wilson is paying for your admission before you even have a chance to say anything. You can’t quite put your finger on it, but this is something that you want to pay for; you might be able to sneak in and pay for the coat check. But too slow Wilson is already handling that as well. 

Before entering the main part of the museum, the two of you decide what are things you must see; you check off the Asian art section, and some of the Abstract Expressionists and of course whatever Jackson Pollock is out. Wilson selects Italian Renaissance, Impressionists and anyone who does nice natural landscape paintings. All set to conquer a small part of what is collectively known as art, the two of you spend the next three hours enjoying the artwork.

The Asian art collection is a little less busy than some of the popular pieces and you hope for some more scandalous woodblock prints. There is a lovely Pollock in the modern area and Wilson tries his best to enjoy it with you – the impact isn’t quite the same as it was with the Rothko in Philly, but hey, he’s trying. Just like how you try to get excited at a painting of the ‘American Frontier’ which does look really realistic but doesn’t speak to you like it does to Wilson.

As hunger begins to crop up, you slowly make it back to the main entrance and your coats. A small display case in a corner catches your attention, inside are old medical and biological instruments, including a 17th century microscope. The two of you collectively sigh at the quality craftsmanship, agreeing they are really beautiful to look at, but the modern alternatives are preferred.

Having reached your saturation point for paintings, textiles, pottery, ceramics and all sorts of other items, the two of you depart to head to your next location. A quiet and trendy pizza place that Eva recommended for its ‘traditional’ style. New York style that is. You stick with the basic pepperoni and cheese while Wilson gets a slice with feta, olives, pepper and goat cheese. It would be appealing if it weren’t for the olives and you aren’t in the mood to pick them off a slice.

By eating after the lunch rush, you are able to take your time and absorb the energy of the city. The pizza is good, but not as good as Chicago style. Wilson laughs at your response, as he almost expected you to prefer another style, though he was expecting along the lines of a traditional one with basil, tomato sauce and mozzarella.

Despite the weather being right around freezing, the sun is out, and the sidewalks are dry, most snow remaining on corners and hard to reach places. Ready to have some retail fun, you head towards the lower end part of Fifth Avenue. Wilson still appears pleasantly surprised when you choose to enter places like Aritzia or Muji and not some sort of high-end location. You are more of a fan of quirky places to shop, but you lack enough local knowledge and Eva wasn’t the most helpful in that regard being a conventional high-end woman. You think that what you really want is likely in Brooklyn but that is even more beyond you knowledge base you so you take advantage of browsing in places that you’d normally have to order online from. 

And yes, you can’t help it when you are in Muji to buy their fine point gel pens in a wide variety of colors and some underwear. Wilson makes a squeal in delight at the men’s socks and figures he could use a few new pairs. Once he decided to buy a few things, he is sucked into the basic almost zen like state of the goods in the unbranded branded Japanese home goods store. He sniffs some of the personal care products and tries the testers. Spends at least five minutes wondering if he needs an aroma diffuser – or maybe House could use one? You point out that he doesn’t need to spend over one hundred bucks on an ultrasonic diffuser as neat as it is.

Thankfully, he finally convinces himself to go with a few pairs of socks, a skin care travel set and a basic cotton t-shirt. While he swipes his credit card, you hope you haven’t created a Muji addict by accident. You just like their pens a lot which likely are not what they make money on.

Growing tired of window shopping, the two of you return to the hotel to check in and relax a bit before dinner. The room is small but modern design with light wood, off-white and cream-colored organic bedding and has an airy feel to it. You plop down on the bed as Wilson lays down next to you. Rolling over to look at each other he asks you if you are having a good day. You smile and tell him you are.

He leans in to kiss you, and you hum back as you roll on top of him. Maybe, you can have some fun before dinner? Not wanting to spoil the surprise for after dinner you work your way down to his waist and he stops you. “Are you sure you want to do this right now? I won’t have time to repay you?” He looks at you with a look of sweetness. You smile back and tell him it is okay; you can think of what he’ll do to you after dinner. He takes a sharp intake of breath and allows you to continue.

The two of you clean up a little before he hails a cab to take you to the swanky hipster place on the other side of the park. You had picked the location so that you could just walk over, Wilson counters that you can walk back if you really want to or enjoy an inefficient but warm cab ride both directions. You give into his suggestion and arrive a little early and order some drinks at the bar until your table opens.

Not wanting to get too buzzed you get a hard seltzer and he orders a craft beer. Again, Eva had suggested this place for the good food and service. As you look around it has a very similar vibe to Cloud, but a bit stuffier and New York drink prices. Just like Cloud, they run a seasonal prix fixe style menu and unable to decide between the vegetarian and vegan options, Wilson offers to share with you. You order the vegan meal based around an African peanut stew and he chooses the Persian inspired option that includes cheese with a baked squash filled with spices including saffron infused rice.

The establishment is much darker than Cloud and it has a different sort of intimacy, one that creates privacy in a public place like New York. It makes sense, it is much harder to retreat away from the public even if you aren’t engaging with them. Despite the underlying tension and implied sexual activities afterwards, the two of you are quiet and both soak in things while making minimal comments. Wilson offers you his spoon to try some of his main and you awkwardly accept it, realizing you have just become a part of a couple that shares in a very open way.

He smiles as you try your best to seem chill all things considered as the super hipster waitress refills your water glasses and you order another alcoholic beverage. 

You also know you are quiet as you simply take things in. When you are in new places that can be overstimulating, sometimes you like to slowly observe everything and live in the moment by witnessing it. Wilson is the first guy who lets you do this and not worry if you are upset, or things are going poorly. Dare you are happy about this, you put your chin in your hand as you look at him across the table as the plates are cleared, and the waitress gives you a few minutes to wait for dessert.

“Everything good?” Even as he asks this, he already knows the answer, but you begin to stoke things between the both of you.

“It is. Thank you.” You make what you think is a faint smile as your foot slides up along his leg under the table. “I think things will get better in a little bit.”

He looks at you intently and ruffles his hair before doing his ‘eye thing’, “I was hoping you’d say that.” Wilson’s foot nudges back and just before things get a little too much, your desserts arrive, lemon-chocolate tart for you and Wilson gets rosewater ice cream. Of course, the two of you now play up the offering a spoonful of sweetness to the other person, innocent bystanders be dammed.

Thankfully, New York is a later-than-Princeton-city, so you are leaving before the scene crowd arrives. Wilson hails a cab and after giving the driver the address of the hotel he turns to you. You look at him as he licks his lips in anticipation. He then pulls you in for a passionate kiss and your inhibitions drop even more. You are in a taxi cab in Manhattan. No one will know that you and Wilson make out like horny teenagers all the way to your hotel. Which is exactly what you do.

It takes all of your will power to use the bathroom to remove the skirt and sweater and to change into the fishnet tights. Wilson gives in only because you tell him you have to get ready to deliver on his request.

When you return to the room, his jaw drops for a moment before his left-hand wipes over his face. “Oh my god, you look amazing.” He swallows loudly before motioning for you to approach the bed.

“These are the tights,” He pauses as he reaches out to run his hand along your leg, “the ones that are okay to rip.” Wilson’s eyes lock with yours with an intensity and you nod. The lust that is driving that intensity shifts to trust and he pulls you onto his lap.

You straddle him as the two of you kiss while his hands eagerly roam your legs, gently pulling at the knitting to begin with.

An hour later, the two of you are on the hotel bed, completely spent, coming down from the high of hormones and physiology. As he had wanted to, Wilson still has his dress shirt on though unbuttoned and open revealing his sweaty undershirt beneath. Your bra somehow remained in position, but the dress is unzipped halfway down the back and you long ago lost your underwear and the sacrificial fishnets were tossed somewhere.

Exhausted from a long day of walking, shopping, art appreciation and most recently, fucking, you both retire to bed early for the city that never sleeps. Ten PM on a Saturday night.

As the two you spoon, Wilson tells you he has a surprise for tomorrow. There is a day spa associated with the hotel and tomorrow morning, both of you are going to get pampered after you check out and before returning to the train station.

You don’t even know what to say other than thanks. Wilson gives you a tighter hug before turning off the lamp. “You’re welcome. And by the way thanks for the tights and my ask. I really appreciated it.”

Feeling more emotional than usual, you turn back to look at him in the darkness. “I’m glad you did. It turned out hotter than I anticipated.” 

And with actual verbal discussion of an intimate act that you’d just done with your boyfriend, both of you say goodnight and quickly fall asleep due to the long day.

The next morning you wake up to nibbling kisses on the back of your neck. You hum in approval ready for some soft morning sex. Only afterwards do you gland at the modern digital clock face over a faux wood panel do you realized that you slept in! It is nine-thirty! The two of you likely slept for at least ten hours.

Wilson rolls over to grab the phone and orders room service for breakfast; he enjoys an All American breakfast while you stick to Eggs Benedict a dish you can never get right at home. You put on a yellow t-shirt under the sweater and skirt while Wilson changes into a t-shirt and his McGill sweatshirt. 

Keys returned (which you only used once) you check into the day spa, donning fluffy white robes. A full body massage is followed by a foot soak and face mask and based on Wilson’s comfort with this, you suspect he’s pampered himself this way more frequently than you have. Which is never. Well, almost never, you have had a massage every once in a while.

All knots and kinks removed from your body, you take the subway back to Penn Station and eat a late lunch from one of the many fast-food vendors as you wait for your train. Settling into your seats, this time you take the window and Wilson leans into your side. You aren’t even aware of when it happens, but while quietly sitting on the train, looking out the window in the fading winter afternoon light, Wilson’s right hand has someone embraced your left hand, his fingers between yours. You see a slight smile on your face reflected in the smudgy window and give his a squeeze back.

Again, you both close your eyes as the train rumbles along the tracks back to Princeton. You are half awake when the next stop is announced to be Princeton. And you begin to stretch, letting go of Wilson’s hand as he stands up to pull your bags down from the luggage rack.

“James! What a surprise to see you on the train today. It has been a long time.” A woman’s voice catches your attention as you look up to see a look of complete shock on Wilson’s face as he looks back at the origin of the voice.

The sound of heels approach as a woman comes into focus, she’s thin, wearing a long black winter coat and a bright fashionable scarf. Her blonde hair is shoulder length and she looks a little older than you and clearly is another professional.

Wilson wets his lips as he puts the bags down on the seat next to you as he quickly glances at you before returning his gaze to look at her. “Sam.” He ruffles his hair, “It certainly has been some time.” She goes to approach him for maybe a hug or something and then stops in the aisle once she sees you.

“Oh, I didn’t realize you were with someone else.” She steps back into the empty row of seats across from yours.

The train begins to slow as it approaches the station and you put on your outwear. He makes the same facial expression from the recent accidental encounter with Bonnie. Could this be another ex? Wilson steps into the aisle and allows you to enter and Sam then approaches you offering her hand.

“Hello, nice to meet you. I’m Sam Carr; James’s first ex-wife.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welp, finally had a chance to end another chapter on a cliffhanger! Mwha ha ha.
> 
> I haven't been to New York since 2004! When I went to the Met and drug my sheltered friend from high school all around New York including the village. I'm from a place where the world class art museum is free the the public, so the idea of pay to enter the Met always gets me, though it is a great place to visit. Yes, I flew home in August of 2018 to go to the Kusuma exhibit with special tickets ordered months in advance and it was amazing. Of course, I then looked at the rest of the collection for the price of free.
> 
> Since I have no New York knowledge AT ALL I had to go with as vague as possible. Sorry, most of the other places I've written about I've been to more recently. Like Philly. Already plotting more Wilson things in Philly.
> 
> I am a strong advocate for the superiority of Chicago style pizza. I've had Giordano's but I have to give it to Pequods - theirs was to die for. Great Lakes native for life!
> 
> I think Muji would be a deadly store for Wilson to enter. The simple but functional and expensive aspect of their home goods would immediately win him over. He would soooo own one of the ultrasonic diffuser and change the scent based on the season and the benefits of the essential oil in it. I am low-key obsessed with their pens, especially the 0.5mm ones. I only purchase them when I'm in a physical store so my last supply from San Jose (for work) is running low and I amazingly managed to not buy any when I was in Japan of all places. And they have some of the most comfortable underwear I've ever bought which is just - unexpected.
> 
> And last but not least, I do indeed have a gothic lolita skirt which I purchased as a regular goth. It has managed to survive in my wardrobe all these years and now gets worn in a professional context with a nice dress shirt and regular heels. It is from the label Candy Violet, which I don't think even exists anymore and was made in the USA. It is a really lovely skirt, with corset lacing on the back, and black lace piping on black cotton fabric.


	39. Wilson begins to face his past

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The fic continues as I ended the last chapter with a bit of a cliffhanger as Sam Carr has appeared. How will Wilson handle running into his first ex-wife unexpectedly? Will his girlfriend support him? Will House find out?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As I've stated before, I think the writers did wrong to have Wilson reunite with Sam only for her to reject him harshly a second time. Wilson is a smart, emotionally intelligent guy who at least went to see a therapist occasionally. He wouldn't have been dumb enough to get back together with Sam.

The soft rumble of the train and the setting sun allowed Wilson to relax as his girlfriend dozed next to him, her hand in his. Only when the conductor announced that the next stop was Princeton, did she finally let go of his hand to stretch and he stood up to take their bags down from the luggage rack. He feels good. Content.

All of a sudden, a familiar voice catches his attention and the fact the voice is addressing him directly.

“James! What a surprise to see you on the train today. It has been a long time.” 

He turns back in shock at the origin of the voice to visual confirm that it is his first ex, Sam. She’s got a small roller bag and is professionally dressed as she approaches him. Wilson feels a wide range of emotions swirling throughout his body and he feels frozen for an instant. 

Finally regaining some composure (even though he’s pretty sure it is only an instant later) he puts the bags down on the seat next to his girlfriend. Wilson makes sure to glance at his girlfriend before replying to Sam.

“Sam.” He ruffles his hair, “It certainly has been some time.”

And to his horror, Sam starts to move towards him as though she wants to lean in for a hug. Didn’t Sam notice he had two bags and he wouldn't have fashionable designer bag? Awkwardly, Sam stops halfway towards embracing him in some sort of way as she steps back into the row of seats across from them as she somewhat apologizes upon seeing that he’s on the train with his girlfriend.

He tries to convey who Sam is to her by his facial expression alone. Look at my face, she’s another ex-wife and he watches his girlfriend as she puts her coat on, ready to exit the train when it stops. He slides down the aisle allowing her to exit in front of him. But then, something he didn’t want to happen but isn’t surprised by happens. Sam introduces herself to his girlfriend, by telling her she’s James’ first ex-wife.

Wilson is absolutely mortified by these events! He feels completely pushed aside by Sam as she straight up lets his girlfriend know who she is. As soon as she meets her. Wilson can tell he’s lost his cool and collected nuanced facial expressions as he’s just stunned into silence. He looks at his girlfriend begging her to do something.

Their eyes lock and even though she doesn’t say anything, he knows she can see his panic. Calmly, in an almost deadpan fashion that he’s never see from her, she accepts Sam’s hand. As she shakes Sam’s hand, she introduces herself. However, she doesn’t give Sam a chance to say anything else as she continues to speak.

“Now, if you must excuse us, we need to make sure to exit the train promptly. We’ve got a very hungry feline to feed.” With that she nudges Wilson to walk the long way down the aisle of the car to the far exit.

Able to speak again, Wilson keeps it brief. “She’s right, we really need to go. Have a good evening Sam.” He quickly turns away and his girlfriend follows him. Only as they reach the exit as the train comes to a stop does he notice that they were holding hands again. Turning back towards her, he doesn’t see Sam following them, a relief, and he relaxes a little when he looks at his girlfriend. She smiles lightly and gives his hand a reassuring squeeze before they let go of each other to step off the train and onto the platform. Needing to feel her, he offers his hand to her again and she quickly grabs it and swiftly they walk back to his car.

There is a slight dusting of snow and ice on it, and she automatically reaches in to pull out the scraper as he turns on the engine and cranks the defroster up to high. He’s doing his best to remain calm but running into Sam like that threw him for a loop. What was she doing on the train? Is Princeton her destination? If so, what is she doing in town? She’d been working in Jersey back home close to his parents. He remembers back in the fall, right before speed dating getting a friend request on social media from her. Not wanting to appear upset and be the mature adult he is, he accepted her request. Wilson is ninety-nine percent sure what when he looked at her profile, she was still listed as living and working in Northern Jersey. . . However, he hasn’t logged into the account that many times since then, only occasionally checking the accounts of his immediate family and never updating his status or posting anything really. 

He wonders if maybe the speed dating hadn’t worked out, then he’d try to connect with others via social media. But he met his girlfriend, and he hasn’t needed a reason to log in all that frequently.

“James?” his girlfriend’s voice seems distant as he thinks about Sam. “James! Are you alright?” Her voice catches his attention, and he jumps back slightly as he turns to see her in the passenger seat, all buckled in. She reaches out with her left hand, placing it on his right shoulder. Her touch immediately allows him to relax, not even aware he was tense.

Nodding, he places his right hand on top of hers. “Yeah. I was just a little distracted. Let’s head home and make sure you can feed Keith.”

She smiles and makes an audible sigh of relief. “Sounds good. And if you need your space, you can just drop me off at my place.” In the dim light and the changing shadows, he can see that she’s letting him know that whatever he wants to do is okay. Wilson realizes she’s suggesting likely what she’d do in this situation if things were reversed. Drop him off and the return to her own place for alone time. It makes him feel comforted by her suggestion even though he’s not the type of person to accept it. The fact that she’s being considerate of him is a complete contrast with Sam and her personality and a warm feeling envelops his chest.

Clearing his throat, he replies to her at a stoplight. “Thanks for the consideration, however, right now I’d rather not be left alone with my thoughts. If you get what I mean.”

She hums back in reply, “Sure, whatever works best for you.”

They don’t say much else until they enter her apartment as Keith howls through the door. She immediately takes care of his feline needs. Wilson tells her he’s going to unpack some of his things and organize his clothing for work tomorrow morning.

After washing his face to clear his mind, he suddenly feels exhausted and changes into his pajamas. He can hear the sound of his girlfriend, puttering around in the kitchen and he just wants to lay down. So, he does just that, walking into her dark bedroom and getting under the covers. In the familiar warmth of her bed, he inhales the scent of the bedding and feels safe under the blankets.

Of course, his brain still can’t stop thinking about Sam and the only thing that is keeping him calm in this situation is literally to be in his girlfriend’s bed, in her bedroom, in her apartment to remind him that he is in a good relationship. Not perfect, but the healthiest he’s ever been in and he isn’t who he was when he was with Sam.

A soft berrrrrttt announces the arrival of Keith who gingerly steps over to him and sits down next to him, his fluffy body pressed into his side as Wilson gently strokes his soft fur.

“Where is everyone?” His girlfriend asks the question to what appears to be an empty apartment until she is standing in the open door to the room. She quietly walks over to the bed and turns on one of the lamps on her nightstand allowing the warm glow to illuminate things. 

“Hey. Mind if I join you?” She reaches for the edge of the comforter but holds her place until Wilson invites her to join him under the covers. He gestures for her to come closer, and they embrace each other as he looks into her eyes, smiling softly.

His girlfriend tentatively takes the lead. He knows her well enough that she might say something House-like that is blunt or awkward, but he’s okay with that because it will be from a place of love and concern for him.

“I just want to let you know I had an amazing weekend. And that what just happened with your ex, Sam, isn’t a big deal. I mean, I was kinda shocked at how rude she was. Not the type of person I would have predicted you’d marry in your mid-20s.” Her voice is calm and reasonable and as predicted, totally jumped to a blunt observation.

Wilson laughs lightly before replying. He wants to make sure he can discuss a complicated topic like this in the best way possible.

“Thank you. I don’t doubt you had an enjoyable weekend,” he smirks at her, “I was there for all of it, and I appreciated all of it.” He winks at her and she laughs.

“How many times to I have to tell you that you are incorrigible?” Her playful statement lets him know that he struck the right balance. Good job, he tells himself, he might actually be able to have a constructive conversation about his first marriage with his current girlfriend. Even House doesn’t know the full story of what happened between him and Sam. House just witnessed his immature meltdown at the conference in New Orleans.

Pulling her a little closer into a hug, he sighs and speaks quietly to her, just above a whisper. “I’m sure you noticed; I was taken aback by running into Sam on the train today. I haven’t seen her in years. We’d occasionally cross paths at conferences, but due to my busy schedule at Princeton-Plainsboro, I haven’t gone to as many conferences as I used to.”

His girlfriend gives him a slight squeeze for him to continue. “Go on.” She speaks in a whisper as she looks at him intently.

Wilson takes a deep cleansing breath before speaking, “I haven’t spoken to Sam since she served the divorce papers to me. When I was away at a conference in New Orleans.”

“Shit, that sucks.” His girlfriend is shocked at the bold move that Sam pulled on him.

Wilson ruffles his hair gaining his composure, “Yeah. It fucking sucked. I was hurt for a long time, since I didn’t see this coming. While we were married, I made it a point to help her succeed anyway possible. I was willing to put my career ambitions on hold so that she could pursue her own goals. Yet, no matter how hard I worked to support her it wasn’t enough. She waited until I was away and then served me the divorce papers via a courier service. I’m still not sure where things went wrong.”

He looks at his girlfriend as she thinks of what to say next. Her expression says it all, she has no experience in a situation like this, so she wants to take her time before replying.

“I see.” She pauses before continuing, “It certainly sounds like you were blindsided by this. Were you ever able to ask her about it?”

Wilson shakes his head meekly, “No. I just accepted the terms of the divorce which legally wasn’t a huge deal. Neither of us owned anything of value and I didn’t want to make things worse demanding an answer from her. I just wanted to move on, so I did, heading from Columbia down to UPenn for my specialization training.”

She then hugs him tightly as she speaks softly into his ear, “Not knowing why must have hurt you, even though you knew you had to let things go. Especially, if she wasn’t forthcoming. I’m sorry to hear that.” 

As she continues to hug him, he feels different. The force of Sam’s lingering presence dissipates from around him. He was unaware it was even there until that moment. Wilson nuzzles her neck right where it meets her shoulder, inhaling her body odor and feeling safe her in her arms.

“James.” She speaks barely above the whisper into his ear. “I just want to let you know that I love you.” It seems like she might say something else, but she instead stops, likely unsure how to proceed verbally.

He turns to face her, their noses almost touching, and he rolls so that she’s now on his chest. “Thanks. I love you too.” And with that he pulls her closer to him and they kiss, slow and deliberately taking their time not to rush anything.

Keith makes an annoyed noise as he jumps off of the bed and trots off into the living room, not wanting to witness anything else.

Wilson smiles to himself as her fingers begin to tangle themselves in his hair. He knows now that he is going to have to address the ‘thing’ between himself and Sam sometime in the future. However, in this moment he’s going to appreciate the fact that he is in a relationship with a woman who cares about him and is an excellent match in bed.

He lets her deepen the kiss and gives himself over to her for the night; right now, he has all he needs to be content.

* * *

You are woken by Keith meowing and pawing at your nostrils as your alarm goes off. Your pesky feline child is hungry for breakfast. After turning off your alarm clock you get up and feed the small beast, only then do you realize that Wilson isn’t up yet. Returning to the bedroom, you find him out cold. After the weekend in New York and then the encounter with his ex, Sam, he must have been exhausted. 

He has a pretty involved morning routine, so you lean over and rouse him. Even though he’ll likely panic once he realizes he overslept, you can’t help but smile at how adorable he looks blinking his eyes at you. You gently tell him it is after seven and that you’ll go ahead and make the coffee while he jumps in the shower.

As predicted, he jolts up wondering how he overslept. His question is answered as soon as he picks up his phone, the alarm not having been set the previous night. It is clear that Keith used his feline intuition to let him sleep in, instead of poke him for breakfast.

By time you are out the door to work, he’s about ten minutes behind and you give him a quick hug while he’s still getting dressed. “I’ll see you later. Let me know what you are doing after work.”

He nods before selecting his green non-striped tie. “Will do. I’ll definitely need to do some laundry and pick up some fresh clothing.”

With that, you exit the apartment reminding Keith to be good and not burn the apartment down as Wilson laughs at your warning.

* * *

House groans as he opens the main doors to the Princeton-Plainsboro Teaching Hospital at eight am. He has a meeting with HR at eight-thirty to set the interview schedule for candidates next week. Despite his best efforts to weasel out of this, Cuddy told him if he skipped out on the scheduling meeting, he’d lose his opening as he’s **_required_** to sit on **_all_** of the meetings.

Stupid rules and bureaucratic nonsense, he tells himself this as he opens the door to his office. At least he has just enough time to make a cup of coffee. Taub is in the office already sipping a fresh cup – guess he doesn’t have to brew a pot for himself. 

“How was your weekend?” House follows the statement with a grunt, he never wants to be too friendly with the vertically challenged physician. 

Taub looks a little confused and pauses before he says it was fine. Based on the dark circles under his eyes, fine actually means marital stress and several nights spent on the couch. Not wanting to discuss this further, House tells the other man, that his weekend was also fine. Cup of coffee in hand, he returns to his office to check his overflowing email inbox and gets a reminder email that reminds all of the committee members of the meeting in less than ten minutes.

He picks up a notepad, realizing he doesn’t have any sort of calendar other than the one on his computer. Oh well, if they schedule things during clinic hours, he’ll just have to take one for the team and interview candidates. 

House then slowly makes his way to the conference room and a rushed Wilson sprints by. “Hey Jimmy, how was your romantic weekend?” his question is directed to his best friend’s back.

Wilson lifts up his right hand to wave at him, “Don’t have time to talk right now House. I’m almost late for a meeting at eight-thirty!” The younger man turns the corner to his office. Now, House isn’t one for a timely arrival in the morning, especially a Monday morning so his Wilson observations are limited during this time frame. However, it is suspicious that Wilson is running late when he knew he had an early meeting; he’s the type to show up even earlier to be as prepared as possible.

He wants to chase Wilson down to know why he’s late, but he turns back to his initial direction and enters the conference room just on time. With everyone’s complicated schedules, it takes an hour to find time to interview the short list candidates; House tries to hold a pencil between his upper lips and nose until Cuddy asks him what his availability is for next Friday. The pencil falls on the surface of the table with that clink-clank sound.

“Well as long as I don’t have a pressing case, I’m open all day.” Cuddy makes a curt reply, “Good. Next up, we have . . .” and House ignores the rest of her statement deciding to only pay attention when he’s called upon directly.

Somehow, House is able to survive the ordeal and flees for the relative privacy of his glass walled office. He then spends the rest of the morning bouncing his ball off the wall, asking his fellows what their favorite vegetable is and then sprints off to Wilson’s office right at noon. 

“I’m starving and I forgot my wallet! Feed me Wilson!” his arrival doesn’t even phase Wilson, as he barely elicits an eye roll. Man, there is something off with Wilson today.

Wilson puts on his whitecoat and adjusts his pocket protector, “I can tell by the volume of your entrance that you are hungrier than normal.” 

House sighs, even Wilson’s snarky reply fails as an observation and not a cutting and witty remark. Something is off. Of course, he must get to the bottom of this. House tells him about his painful meeting and Wilson laughs flatly at mocking him at his overblown reaction to a single meeting that went a scant hour.

They enter the queue, and both get Ruben sandwiches, yet Wilson holds them to a single serving of fries. House runs off with the tray to capture their favorite booth, leaving Wilson to pay the bill and also get their drinks.

When Wilson plops in the chair he sighs heavily putting two Doctor Peppers down. Wilson then speaks between bites of his sandwich. “So, how was your weekend?”

Ah, classic Wilson – deflecting attention from himself in order to see if House will pick up on his poor mood and be a supportive friend. House takes a few minutes to talk about what he watched on TV, how much cooking and baking he did and lastly that he’s itching to get back on his bike once the weather allows.

He then asks Wilson how his trip to the city with his girlfriend was. Wilson shrugs and ruffles his hair before blushing a little. He tells House it was good, they went to the Met, had New York style pizza which his girlfriend did not like, enjoyed a hipster evening meal and that it was a good day. 

House stares down at his fountain drink for inspiration as he slurps on the fizzy carbonated beverage – whatever is causing Wilson to be in a funk, it wasn’t his girlfriend. How unusual indeed. 

“Well, that sounds like a pleasant weekend and based on your slight blush, you were sexually satisfied.” He pauses as Wilson has that dopey look as he knows his friend is thinking of whatever sexual act he did over the weekend, again.

“That doesn’t explain why you were late and in a pissy mood this morning. Orgasms equal a chipper Wilson!” He points at him with an accusatory finger.

Wilson stares at his empty plate and pokes a single French fry around as he sighs.

 ** _Oh no,_** House thinks, **_this is serious_** . . . Wilson looks at him with his hurt facial expression, those dark brown eyes showing a feeling of being lost.

After ruffling his hair, he clears his throat and speaks quietly. “On the way home, I – we ran into my ex on the train.” Wilson appears unsure of himself.

House has to lighten the mood, he waves his hand with broad strokes, “I thought it was something much more serious – Bonnie is harmless, plus your girlfriend already met her a few weeks ago.” He laughs but sees Wilson looking deadly serious. “Ok, fine, Julie was a bit of a bitch, but she’s the one who cheated on you. Running into her isn’t a big deal.”

As his eyes lock with Wilson’s, he sees that Wilson isn’t laughing with him, if anything his brow has become even more furrowed. House starts to speak and Wilson cuts him off with a whisper.

“We ran into Sam. The last I knew, she was working up in Northern Jersey near my parents. I only saw her in passing a few times at conferences after she divorced me. We never spoke to each other or interacted those times.”

Wilson looks like he wants to curl up into a ball as he sighs and holds his head over the table, resting his face in his hands, his elbows splayed out on the tabletop.

House doesn’t know what to say, this is the ex-wife of mystery. Wilson has never spoken about her to him much; House liked to think of her as a ‘souless harpie’ who had hurt his best friend deeply. Actually, the fact that he gave her that nickname was based on how much Wilson told him about Sam early during the days of their friendship over the course of a drunken conference. Which was fleshed out much later when Wilson was the newest hire at PPTH in oncology and he was still hung up on the fact he was a divorcee.

Technically speaking, House should be thanking her for introducing Wilson to him back at that conference in the Big Easy. He couldn’t help but notice the young recently minted physician trying his best to distract himself at the conference as the envelope sent via courier went everywhere with him – unopened – knowing that if he actually opened it, he’d be acknowledging he was served divorce papers.

House was even more fascinated why the young and handsome doctor who finally lost it at the bar, tossing the bottle across the room in anger. His curiosity was piqued, and House knew he had to get to know this guy.

Finding himself at a loss of what to say, all House can do is reply with a weak, “Oh. Samantha.”

Wilson peeks at him from between his fingers and loose strands of hair that have fallen over his face. “Yeah. Sam.”

If it weren’t for the depressing cloud hanging over Wilson, House realizes that the ladies – hell some men would melt looking at how adorable the man is at the moment. Shaking his head to clear it, House takes a sip of his drink.

“I see. It is a free country so it isn’t that she can’t run into you. I mean you already saw her from a distance at conferences.” House makes sure to nod and gesture that Wilson can’t beat himself over something like this.

Wilson pokes at the French fry again and he makes note to make sure to not eat if even with Wilson doesn’t. “It wasn’t that. We were just about to Princeton and I stood up to take our bags down from the luggage rack.” The oncologist leans back and begins to gesture with both hands for emphasis. 

“I heard a voice call my name and I turned to see it was her.” Wilson pauses and then for emphasis repeats exactly what she said – **_“James. What a surprise to see you on the train today. It has been a long time.”_**

The damn has just broke, and Wilson floods him with a deluge of words. What House is able to understand is that she went to ‘maybe’ give Wilson a friendly hug, which confused him since they haven’t interacted since the divorce. She only pulled back when she noticed his girlfriend and seemed shocked that he was with her. Wilson then goes on to state that he panicked and froze, which gave her the chance to introduce herself to his girlfriend, as ‘James’ first ex-wife.’ With a relaxed and friendly demeanor. 

Wilson tried to physically transmit his discomfort and his girlfriend sprung to action and they quickly moved away from her and quickly got to the car. As he talks about his girlfriend his shoulders relax and he doesn’t look as distressed as he did earlier. House slightly thanks Wilson’s girlfriend for thinking quickly on her feet and he’s glad she’s dating Wilson. He still won’t give her verbal approval, but she’s the best relationship that man has been in. Maybe he could wrap her into helping him make macaroons but give her half of them . . .

Realizing he’s drifting off topic he returns to the matter at hand, Wilson being thrown off by his first ex-wife.

House asks his best friend why running into his ex would make him almost late for a meeting today and feel depressed and boring. 

Wilson sighs, he replies that he doesn’t even know himself. He didn’t think he’d really ever run into Sam again other than from a distance at the regional oncology meeting.

Before House can probe Wilson’s brain for more answers, he watches as the man pulls back the sleeve of his white coat to check his watch. “Well, I’ve got a Clinic shift starting soon and I need to swing by Susan’s office. I’ll see you later.” 

Swiftly, Wilson tidies his area, picks up the tray and heads off to drop off the garbage and return the tray to the kitchen. He thinks about stopping his best friend but realizes that Sam was a person who overpowered Wilson. Sam was the only woman that Wilson loved but was divorced because he tried too hard to please her. House strokes his stubbly chin, this might require back-up for right now, he’ll just hang back and keep a close eye on the dashing hero. Literally dashing off to avoid thinking about things via clinic duty. Definitely the excuse House **_wouldn't_** use.

* * *

Right as you pack up to head home from work, you phone rings. Wilson asks if you could pick up a few items at the grocery store for him. He’s going to do a load or two of laundry at his condo before heading over to your place and he just wants a few things to make lunch for tomorrow.

With the weekend out of town you are in need of groceries; you swing by the store in the generic strip mall near work and arrive home to an annoyed Keith. Your errand made you forty-five minutes later than normal. The horror!

While you cook supper, you also do laundry, trying to prevent your hamper from overflowing with dirty garments. Just around eight, Wilson enters the apartment looking tired but relieved. He’s balancing what are clearly clean clothes and dry-cleaned suits. He leans over the back of the couch to kiss you and you notice a sweetness there which seems new.

“I’m going to put on the kettle. You want some tea?” Wilson smiles as he makes his offer. You accept it and a short while later, he’s next to you on the couch, two steaming hot mugs on the coffee table before you.

He fidgets a bit, until he’s comfortably under the blanket with you; the TV plays a travel program and the two of you are silent until a commercial break. Dramatically, he takes your left hand and holds it between both of his hands.

“I want to thank you for what you did yesterday on the train. I’m sorry, I froze up when Sam approached me. I know you think I’m a master at dealing with people, but she’s the one person I never could figure out.”

He is perplexed – by himself - as he tells you this. You see doubt and questioning in his eyes and it makes you want to tell him he’s being too hard on himself.

You try to choose your words as carefully as possible, “I don’t think you should beat yourself up over this. Comparing you in your twenties with you in your forties isn’t fair to yourself.”

He quietly listens to you, nodding slightly. “You have a point. Yet, I still wasn’t able to respond to her.”

You put your free hand on top of his and pat it reassuringly. “Hey, just relax.” You lead him to laying down in front of you, his head on your breast, both hands on his arms holding him firmly. His body relaxes and you feel stress leave his muscles.

Speaking gently, you continue, “Look, I don’t know the exact details of what happened. I don’t need to know those details; I know who you are in the present. If I could make a guess what happened, it is that she hurt you deeply and you’ve never had a chance to heal from it. That’s why her suddenly approaching you took you by surprise.”

Wilson's gaze is upon you. His face goes from one of surprise, to contemplation, to realization and then a faint smile. “I think you might be right. The only person I’ve told Sam about is House. But that was years ago, and House is well, House.”

He rolls over so that he’s now hugging you, his cheek pressing down between your breasts. Your fingers are attracted to his hair as you caress his scalp, watching as he relaxes even further. A giant sigh is released from him and he hums. 

“I think you may have some unresolved trauma from this. However, I’m not the person you should be telling this to. That should be your therapist.” You have to make it clear that you are not going to fill the place of many different people for him. Girlfriend is the role you are willing to fill for him.

Wilson lifts his head up and looks at you; he says he will make an appointment with the therapist he’s seen on and off over the years. But if the therapist suggests he discuss things with you, he wants your support. You reassure him that you will be there for him.

As he relaxes, the two of you begin to doze off until Keith rudely wakes the both of you up to brush him before getting his reward of kitty treats and a little more kibble. You make sure Wilson goes to bed at a reasonable hour, so he doesn’t have a rushed Tuesday morning.

* * *

Wilson’s main goal for Tuesday besides being a good oncologist and taking care of his patients and running a department is to find a therapist. A quick walk by the Department of Diagnostic Medicine shows House and his team around the table with charts open and a differential on the white board. They’d got a case. . .

The case keeps House busy and he calls Wilson’s office phone to tell him to eat lunch without him, he’s going to observe the patient from a distance as the fellows run some tests. Wilson is fine with this; it gives him time to have a quiet lunch in his desk while he logs into his insurance provider’s website to see what therapists are accepting patients and covered by their plan. For obvious reasons, he refuses to work with anyone here at PPTH and likes smaller independent practices for privacy. Plus, he knows that House has managed to break into the files here when he was ‘wooing’ Stacy for a second time around.

Two previous psychologists he’s seen are still on the list. He makes a decision to skip over both of them. The one guy was a typical by the book white man who used medication as his first approach to depression and anxiety. Of course, he put Wilson on antidepressants, which made him slow and sleepy but did nothing for how he felt. After that sub-optimal experience, he went the opposite direction and saw an older woman, a baby boomer hippy close to retirement. She did get him to learn to accept some of his feelings but her insistence on listening to and accepting his inner child never helped him. Perhaps, it was due to the fact that his relationship with House always brought out puerile behaviors for both men . . . . the grape throwing incident and the pumpkin trebuchet immediately come to mind. At least she didn’t insist on a prescription that didn’t do anything.

He finds a woman he doesn’t recognize on the list. She hasn’t been practicing long and she specializes in trauma and anxiety – this might be the person for him. There isn’t much for him to go on, the website just lists the name, degree information, address and phone number that it will do. He rings the office number and he’s able to schedule a new patient appointment for next week! Of course, he’ll need to fill out some paperwork the secretary emails to him and he gives all of his insurance information but he’s going to try this for a third time.

The rest of the week proceeds smoothly. His girlfriend is supportive of his decision to see a therapist so quickly and she hopes he’ll figure out how to learn about himself. They have a regular Thursday date night at the French Bistro again and spend most of the weekend hunkered down when a winter storm dumps snow throughout the region. 

House also told him that Eva will be interviewed this next week for the open position on Wednesday, so he finds himself hoping she’ll nail the interview.

On Tuesday morning he finds himself driving to a small medical complex hidden behind a strip mall to meet the therapist he selected from the list. All he knew was her name was Dr. Janice Wood and she is one of the newer practices in the area in his network.

He walks into the lobby to find a very vibrant waiting room with enough chairs for six people. It is lush, plants are crammed throughout the space in front of the sky blue walls, which contrasts the grey winter day outside. A young black man is at the reception desk and he smiles at Wilson directing him to sign in and have a seat.

Wilson is of course fifteen minutes early and he picks up a magazine to flip through while he waits. The previous client’s session must be over when the door to Dr. Wood’s office opens and a university aged woman exits. She waves to the receptionist and is out the door. Ten minutes later, the door opens again, and a petite black woman is looking directly at Wilson. Her hair is covered with a loose hijab and she is sharply dressed in a charcoal colored fitted suit with bright accessories, a magenta floral lapel pin and matching wedge sneaker heels. “James Wilson?” her gaze bores into him and he shyly raises his hand and nods at her.

Dr. Wood offers her hand to him, “Hello. Nice to meet you. I’m Doctor Wood.” He’s stunned for a second as her realizes that she has a strong Caribbean accent, which is almost as strong as her handshake!

He smiles and replies likewise. She leads him back through a small hallway to two rooms. One is her actual office, he can see her desk, various books and other items in it through a half open door. Next to it is a small lounge area, it has a couch, two different chairs, a small desk and one wall is covered with cabinets. The room is painted in a soft shade of blue and green and reminds him of the ocean and the color of the furniture all matches the tropical theme.

She tells him to take a seat, he can choose whatever is most comfortable for him and she’ll return with his file ready to start. Wilson isn’t sure where to sit, none of the places seem to indicate if they are for the therapist or the patient and he settles on the couch because it is across from one of the chairs and he can put his stuff down on it next to him.

Wood returns and she sits down in the chair across from him and opens his file and a notepad. The first few minutes they discuss his previous experiences with therapists; what was good, what was bad etc. Then asks him why he’s decided to try therapy again. And with her.

Not sure how to begin, he ruffles his hair and tells her that it was partly a suggestion from his girlfriend. He explains how he ran into Sam and how it upset him more than he would have realized; he thinks that there is something that happened to him as a result of his relationship with Sam and it has continued to follow him and impact his relationships.

She listens intently as he tells her about his failed marriages, the accidental death of Amber, House’s role in her death, his trip to Mayfield for rehab and therapy and how he doesn’t want to make the same mistakes he’s done in the past. Wilson can’t help but notice how her eyes get wider and wider as he reveals each traumatic event, only to be followed by another one.

Before he can say anything else, she raises her hand to indicate he can stop there.

Wood takes a deep breath, “Okay, you’ve just described multiple events that could easily be considered traumatic. As much as I predict they are interconnected, we are going to have to start somewhere.” She leans over to pick up a box of tissues and hands it to him.

Wilson looks at it, puzzled why she’d do that.

She sits down across from him and continues. “Now, things are likely going to become uncomfortable, painful, emotional. It is best we establish how we are going to talk to each other. You may call me Dr. Wood, or Janice if that makes you more comfortable. How do you want me to address you? James? Jim? Jimmy? Mr. Wilson?”

Wilson thinks about his previous psychologists, the one guy made him call him Doctor while the hippy insisted, he call her by her first name which felt wrong to him. “As a doctor, I think I’m most comfortable if we just referred to each other by our last names. I pretty much spend most of my time responding to Wilson and very few people use my first name, my immediate family and my significant other. Are you okay with me just calling you Wood?”

The petite woman tilts her head in thought for a moment. “Sounds alright to me, Wilson.” She jots a note down on the yellow legal pad. “Normally, I’d spend a lotta time trying to get to know a person, but this isn’t your first time in a therapist’s office. So, why don’t we get down to business. Tell me about Sam.”

Wilson is a little unsure where to begin and flounders a bit saying that she’s his first ex-wife.

Noticing his struggle, Wood has him close his eyes and take a few deep breaths. She instructs him to start at the very beginning, when was the first time he met her and how did they start dating?

No longer concerned with watching Wood observe him, he’s able to visualize when he first met Sam. It was their second year of med school in a pharmacology class. She sat behind him, since he always made sure to sit the front row. He’d caught glances of her behind him, and he was smitten with her loose wavy blond hair and confidence. She was out of his league. The day of the first exam, he pulled out a ziplock bag ready to go full of pre-sharpened pencils, an eraser and his student ID card. A gentle tap on his shoulder caught his attention, she asked him if she could borrow one of his pencils (he did have ten). He smiled at her offering her two and she thanked him with a sweet smile back.

As their hands ghosted each other during the exchange, she introduced herself, “By the way, I’m Sam Carr.”

He made sure to show his best grin back, “James Wilson. Nice to meet you.” Just then the doors swung open as an exam proctor uses her foot to hold the door open carrying a large stack of exams. The proctor shouts out to the room, “Everything off of your desks! Only number 2 pencils, erasers and your ID on the desk and visible at all times!”

Wilson turns back to face the front, when he hears a “Psssttt.” He glances back towards Sam, she winks at him and whispers, “Good luck James. I owe you a coffee after this for the pencils.”

He blushes in embarrassment as he whispers back, “You too.” And then he faces forward as he tries to return his thoughts to the matter at hand, the exam.

After completing his exam and having his ID double checked, he exits the lecture hall to finally use the restroom after two hours of constant writing. Sitting on a chair outside of one of the faculty offices down the corridor is Sam. She waves at him and he blushes making sure to point at the door to the men’s room to let her know he’ll be right back.

He can’t believe she stuck around to wait for him! He examines his face in the mirror of the bathroom. His hair is a complete mess from playing with it during the exam and he’s got acne on his face due to the stress of medical school and he’s not sure the last time he’s washed his McGill sweatshirt over a simple white t-shirt with his loose fitting jeans. Wilson does his best to tame his wild locks and finally exits.

“Took you long enough.” Sam smiles slyly as she approaches him. “Would you like that cup of coffee now? Or do you have someplace to be?”

This was his last class for the day, and he should get back to his tiny studio apartment to study for physiology lab tomorrow, but it is still early, just after seven in the evening. Smiling like an idiot he replies he has a little bit of time and they head to one of the many cafes on campus for a cup of coffee and some deli sandwiches.

The time flies by and when he notices how dark it is outside, he excuses himself. Sam is beaming back at him as she hands him a small scrap of paper torn from her pharmacology notes. Glancing down at it he sees her phone number written in neat print. “Call me James. Sooner rather than later.” He shoves the scrap into his pants pocket and tells her that he will. 

Only as he unlocks the door to his tiny studio apartment, does he realize she never gave him his pencils back after the exam. **_Well, two pencils were worth it to get her phone number_** he thinks to himself.

Wood’s voice reaches out to him at this point. She asks him if his brain picked up on something about her personality in that moment. 

His eyes fly open in response to the question. “Oh shit. It set up the fact that no matter what I did to help her it would never be enough. I bent over backwards to please Sam. Romantically, sexually, emotionally, professionally.

It then hit him like a ton of bricks, she would always be the one in charge of their relationship and she took advantage of him. He was used. Wilson’s eyes swell with tears as begins to cry softly, silently. His nose runs and the tears stream down his face as he wordlessly lets it all go. 

Wood watches him closely and speaks quietly, “It is okay. Let it all out.”

He isn’t sure how long he cries for, but it comes to a natural stop. Wilson’s entire body feels like jello and his eyes and nose are pink and puffy. He becomes aware of his surroundings as Doctor Wood smiles at him gently.

“How do you feel Wilson?” Her question leads him to internally check how his entire body feels.

Blowing his nose one more time, he replies, “I feel alright. Lighter but exhausted. Almost enlightened, I guess.”

Wood is still smiling back at him. “That is good to hear. Our time is coming to an end soon, but I want to make sure you are okay before you leave. The fact that you were finally able to identify the imbalance in what was clearly an important relationship in your life is great. Next time, we will discuss what you learned from this and how it still influences you today.”

Wilson nods while thanking her for her assistance. She leads him back towards the lobby and tells him to talk to Bobby the receptionist to schedule his next appointment for two weeks. He does exactly what she tells him, and he leaves a therapist’s office for the first time feeling legitimately better.

When he enters his car, he finally looks at his appearance in the vanity mirror. His eyes are still puffy and irritated, but his nose is no longer flushed. Before he does his rounds today, he’ll have to put a little ice on them.

He doesn’t think about things for the rest of the day and heads over to his girlfriend’s place for the night. She texted him to let him know she had made a crockpot full of chili, so he’d better have an appetite. 

As they eat supper, he tells her that he had his first appointment with a therapist. She’s surprised at how quickly he was able to find one and he agrees with her. She gingerly asks him how it went, and he smiles back at her. It went alright and he’ll be returning to see her in two weeks. His girlfriend is happy and proud of him letting him know that she stands behind him. This comforts him deep down. She was also right, what he told Wood is not the sort of thing he should be telling his current partner.

House sends him a text after supper that Poker Night is cancelled this week with his current case. Friday will be trashy TV and take out at Wilson’s place. 

* * *

Wednesday evening Eva exits work to head to the local gym. She attends the yin yoga class where she tries to release all of the tension and stress from her body. It works for the short term, she calmly eats her meal kit dinner while watching old reruns of Star Trek The Next Generation. 

In her comfy sweatpants and her SUNY Stonybrook hoodie she stares at her professional wardrobe, black and navy suits, lined up on her wardrobe hanger. Everything she has is too formal for Princeton-Plainsboro, but it is all she has. Eva settles on a navy pantsuit with light blue pinstripes, it looks a little lighter. For the train she picks her navy-blue Adidas sneakers with white trim. Her heels will be in her overnight bag, ready to be worn when she arrives at the hospital for the interview. For a blouse, she picks out a crisp white cotton oxford shirt and a blue patterned scarf. 

The clothing is laid out for tomorrow morning as she packs her overnight bag and satchel. She’ll spend the night at Jen’s place after the interview and take the earliest train back to the city to be back in the office on time.

Setting her alarm for five-thirty, she takes a melatonin before washing up and setting her one cup coffee maker to begin brewing at 5:25 AM. Nervous about the interview tomorrow, it takes her longer to get comfortable and finally falls asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Therapists can be a varied as their individual patients can be. Some will try to medicate away your problems while others will honestly try to get you to embrace your inner child. 
> 
> I've worked with both Jamaicans and Trinis, but I will never be able to replicate a proper representation of their accent on paper. Please do your best to imagine Wood's accent.
> 
> It was fun to imagine how Wilson first met Sam while they were med students and then quickly fell in love and got married. Wilson clearly got swept away by her sheer force.
> 
> On a more serious note, I had Wilson's girlfriend make it clear that she would not be his own personal therapist. There is an excellent article in Harper's Bazaar about how modern men have come to rely on their female significant others to be everything for them; loving partner, cheerleader, maternal figure, personal housekeeper and therapist. It is a complicated issue in part a result of the breakdown of male relationships and bonding based on hyper masculine expectations as well as an inability of men to realize they are burning out their female partners.
> 
> Eva will be back in the next chapter, and man do I love the gummy melatonins. They really help with setting a good sleep rhythm.


End file.
